


Revolver Reloaded

by arkemisia



Series: Past Enduring [2]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: F/M, Gen, just wanted to make that clear, the two relationships do not happen at the same time, will tag characters though as they show up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkemisia/pseuds/arkemisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys' corporate, cutthroat ex-girlfriend Stacey happens to be one of the survivors of Helios' destruction, but Vaughn isn't about to let drama from the past ruin his chances of banding the surviving former Hyperions together. No matter how much he might hate her guts.</p><p>But as the saying goes, old habits die hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucky Strike

_ “ _ Here! Over here; another live one,” Cassius called, standing gingerly atop a pile of debris. Vaughn dropped the broken computer he'd been scavenging and hustled towards the scientist, hopping over mangled desks and smoking piles of unidentifiable metal. “There, there now, young lady. No need to be afraid. We're friends,” Cassius soothed, reaching towards a dip in the wreckage.

Vaughn cleared the crest of the miniature crater and paused, eyes darting back and forth before widening in recognition. His brows furrowed and his jaw jutted forward with a sigh.

“Out of all the people on Helios that had to survive, of course  _ you _ would be one of them,” he groaned loudly. Freezing in place as she took Cassius’ outstretched hand, the woman in a tattered skirt suit with matted blonde hair looked up in astonishment, fear blossoming, blatant in her frantically blinking eyes.

“V… Vaughn?” she whispered in disbelief, her voice small and dry, cracking like her chapped lips.

“Hello, Stacey,” he replied coolly, crossing his arms over his muscled chest, his shirt wrapped around his head as protection from the Pandoran sun. Cassius looked between the two of them in bewilderment. 

“Ah, you… are acquaintances… should I… leave you two to your business then?” he asked, and even from his distance, Vaughn could see Stacey's knuckles go white as she clung to the elderly scientist’s hands. With a steadying breath, Vaughn unfurled his arms and flexed his fingers until they stayed loose at his sides. 

“No. No, it's okay. Take her to the others,” Vaughn said, a hint of resignation in his voice. Cassius helped her up the side of the jagged crater; somewhere along the line she’d lost one of her high heel pumps and was unsteady on her feet. 

Vaughn turned away to continue searching the wreckage but as the two passed she went to reach out, her hand only moving a few inches toward him but enough to make him recoil and frown as he turned back to her. She opened her mouth to ask something but seemed to have a hard time getting the words out. 

He knew what she was going to ask and it was a knot in his gut and he didn't want to hear it. Most certainly not from her.

“...Rhys…” she started. “I heard… on the PA… before the crash… is he…?”

“Go. Away. Stacey,” Vaughn commanded with a wave of his hand, turning back the direction he'd come. “Just because I'm helping you  _ now _ doesn't mean I've forgotten what you did.  _ This _ place,  _ this _ time… it's gonna be different. We're all _ one team _ now if we want to survive on Pandora,” he explained as he walked away. 

“Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. And it doesn't mean I have to tell you  _ anything _ ,” he said.

Especially since he didn't want to have to admit anything on  _ that  _ subject to himself either.

So he kept searching.  
  
  


Several days later, Vaughn was tallying the supply reports in his makeshift office at the heart of the ruins of Helios when Yvette stormed in. She leaned over the desk, gripping its edges.

“You found Stacey,” she stated. “You found  _ Stacey _ , alone and unarmed in the wreckage and you bring her  _ back _ ?” she demanded incredulously.

“We weren't alone okay? Cassius was there too,” he quickly interjected.

“Cut the crap; you know he would've looked the other way for you. He loves you,” she spat.

“Yvette! What was I supposed to do? Kill her?!”

“Yes! She's a murdering, back-stabbing, psychopath who nearly got Rhys ki-” she stopped as abruptly as she started, jerking back upright. Neither of them could look at each other for a moment. Finally she took a breath and continued, albeit much quieter. “She's bad news, Vaughn,” she stated and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, Yvette,” he replied. “But I couldn't just  _ off _ her right there, or leave her like that,” he said motioning helplessly. “If this is going to work, we’re… We're going to have to put Helios, Hyperion, and all that crap behind us.”

“But…”

“And I could say the same of you, honestly, Yvette,” he said frankly, though there was no malice in his words. “We trusted you and you threw us to Vasquez.”

“I told you I had no  _ choice _ \- I was doing you a favor - all I could  _ do _ to get him to bring you back  _ alive _ but you wouldn't-”

“Everybody has a choice,” he interrupted her excuses, before tossing aside the manifests he'd been crushing in his grip. 

“I accepted Vasquez’s offer too,” he admitted after a while with an intensely ashamed frown. “Rhys was the only one to refuse,” he added quietly. “Just like he refused Stacey's.”

For a moment neither of them had anything else to say. Finally Vaughn ran a hand down his face, rubbing the quickly growing hair along his jaw threatening to turn the goatee into a full fledged beard.

“We've been over this,” he said. “You're sorry, I'm sorry, we’re all very sorry,” Vaughn rattled off. “I'm beginning to see exactly what was going on up there… Nobody’s innocent, Yvette. This is our chance to make things right. Don't you think maybe  _ she _ should get a second chance now too? I'm not saying we  _ trust _ her, just… Rhys didn't want us to kill her then and I doubt that's changed.”

“Alright, but I want it on the record I think this is a bad idea,” she said. A flash of recognition made a smile briefly twitch across Vaughn’s lips before it disappeared. 

“Duly noted,” he said mutedly and she nodded somberly. He sighed and stood up, pensive for a moment. “I’m going back out there,” he said walking around the desk and past Yvette.

“I’m coming with you,” she said, turning to follow, making him pause and stare. 

“I thought you hated it out there? Too hot, and dusty, and completely uncivilized.”

“It is,” Yvette quickly agreed. “But with  _ her  _ here and him… not? It just got infinitely more appealing,” she said and Vaughn found he couldn’t argue. “Besides…” she continued. “I want to look for him too.”  
  
  


Many of the former employees of the fallen space station, Children of Helios, as they’d started calling themselves, watched, as the man that personally pulled many of them out of the wreckage, left the ruins. 

Hard at work, her formerly long blonde hair shorn to but an inch, Stacey paused as well, to watch the accountant turned pseudo-bandit leader depart. Her newly acquired, oversized worn pair of boots were a far cry from the pump she'd landed wearing, but with the condition of her pencil skirt, a tear up the side almost making it unwearable, tattered blouse tied together under a dusty blazer, they didn't seem so mismatched. 

She narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose before returning to drilling screws into the sheet in front of her, reinforcing the wall cordoning off the area of Helios that had been deemed worth saving.   
  
  


The sun was high in the Pandoran sky when once again someone called “Here! Over here!” and Vaughn hurried over, stumbling across structural beam and overturned chair alike. Yvette followed much slower, picking her way through the debris with vaguely veiled disdain, trailing her friend. 

At first, he didn't understand why the other Children of Helios had called him over. And then he saw it. 

Hanging limply from a sharp, jagged metal beam jutting out from the wreckage.

Skewered just under the exposed shoulder joint, charred and bloodied, was Rhys’ cybernetic arm, it's yellow paint dulled by the layer of dust and rust caked onto it. 

Yvette pulled up beside him, scowling at first as she looked around at the debris, before she saw the object of everyone’s attention. Then her jaw slowly dropped as well, and she started shaking her head.

“No,” Vaughn breathed. “Oh no,” he added, looking around. Yvette squeezed her eyes shut and let loose a deep breath she'd been holding. “RHYS?” Vaughn yelled, crossing the small patch of cleared debris encircling the impaled arm. “Rhys, can you hear me?!” he called, lifting up a sheared piece of metal to look under it.

“C-come on, guys,” Vaughn urged the others, who'd simply been watching in stunned silence. “Help me look; he needs  _ help _ ,” he commanded with a desperate roar. The others hopped to it, but Yvette could only wrap her arms around herself, and stare.  
  
  


Sometime after dusk the search parties began trickling back to the main camp, with the crushing word. The man responsible for the crash, the man who defied Handsome Jack, and freed them all, was most certainly dead.

All that was left of him was an arm.

Vaughn continued searching the wreckage until well after dark, with Yvette doggedly stumbling along behind him. 

“You can go back,” he said, as he turned around to help her up for what felt like the hundredth time.

“ _ We _ should've gone back a long time ago, Vaughn,” Yvette replied, futilely trying to brush the dust of her skirt. She looked around, but couldn’t make much out in the dark. They’d left small light beacons showing the path back to the central space the Hyperion refugees inhabited, but there wasn’t much else, other than the light of Elpis. 

“You’re the one always reminding everyone how important it is to be back to the safe zone before dark,” she said. “Always saying how dangerous it is out here,” she added, hugging herself uneasily. 

“I know but…” he started, pushing at a mangled door. He took a step back from it. “I can’t go back,” he said, as he surged forward, ramming the door with his shoulder, though it refused to yield. “I can’t,” he repeated, as he pushed; the crumpled metal groaned  in protest, but held fast.

“Vaughn,” Yvette called, but he kept pushing. “Vaughn!” she called again and he stopped, stepping back and huffing. 

“He was here, Yvette!” he yelled. “Right there!” he cried, thrusting his pointer finger in the direction of the impaled arm. “And he’s hurt and he needs help; he’s gotta be here,” he said, his voice diminishing before he turned back to the door and pressed up against it again with a grunt. 

The door groaned, and growled, making both Vaughn and Yvette freeze. 

“Did I just hear…” Yvette whispered and another growl wafted down through the air. In unison, both former Hyperion employees lifted their eyes to find themselves staring at the light reflecting off the black ones of none other than a hungry skag. 

“Run!” Vaughn yelled, turning Yvette around and pushing her onward in front of him. The skag barked and leapt down behind them as they scrambled through the debris, following the beacons lighting the path. It clamored far more easily over the uneven path than they did, and Vaughn spun around, pulling down a bent file cabinet behind them and spinning back around to keep running. 

The skag slid to a stop as the cabinet fell in its path, but quickly recovered and jumped up and over the warped office furniture. 

“Vaughn?!” Yvette called over her shoulder as they both stared at the pursuing monster while running. She was surprisingly speedy suddenly considering her heels, a small part of Vaughn’s brain noted as they continued on. 

“Keep running!” he yelled to her. Looking forward, Vaughn realized just how far they were from the safe zone with a sinking feeling. Then his eyes caught something up ahead. “Ahha!” he yelped, and with a renewed burst of speed dashed towards it. 

“Vaughn?” she asked again as he dove forward, scooping up the SMG on the ground and whirling it towards the skag. He pulled the trigger with a triumphant grin, only for the gun to simply click lamely in response.

“What? No!” he said, pulling the trigger again, furious clicks taunting him. “Oh craps,” he sighed as the skag pounced on him. Its jaws closed around the SMG in his hand and drove him to the ground. He struggled with it, refusing to let the traitorous gun go.

The skag reared back, its legs pinning him and its jaws pulling the gun, and by extension, him, up harder and harder with each jerk. Vaughn grunted angrily as he pulled back and then something dark and heavy swung across his field of view, colliding with the skag’s head with a loud THWACK. The skag released its grip on the gun and staggered to the side. 

Vaughn took the opportunity to scramble a few feet backwards and saw Yvette swing the crooked metal bar again, scoring another hit on the monster. It fell back again, and with a wide swinging arc, she brought the metal down a final time, eventually dropping it at her side, breathing heavy.

“You okay?” she asked after a moment as Vaughn climbed to his feet, the gun hanging useless at his side.

“Yea,” he replied. “That was, wow,” he breathed, unable to stop the adrenaline infused grin from spreading across his face. “Thanks.” Yvette leveled him a withering stare as she walked past him, continuing towards the central Hub. 

“ _ Don’t _ expect me to do that again,” she said with a disguised smile. “That was disgusting. Look at me, I’m covered in skag blood, yuck,” she added, looking down at her hands and skirt as they walked. 

“Yea, that’s pretty gross,” Vaughn agreed. He hefted the gun with a sigh. “I really thought this was gonna work,” he moaned. 

“Really? You thought a random ass gun you found lying in the mangled debris of a space station was going to work?” Yvette asked. 

“Well, I mean, yea,” he said with a shrug. “That’s kinda how it works around here usually.”

“Not this time apparently,” she replied with a laugh. Vaughn continued studying it. 

“I wonder why it didn’t work,” he said, turning it over in his hands. Scratches from the skag’s teeth dug deep grooves in it and he frowned. “Ah man,” he moaned. “I hope we can fix it,” he said suddenly. “We should probably start stockpiling these; setup some defenses other than just the walls.”

“How are we supposed to fix it? Do you know how to fix a gun? Do you know how to  _ shoot  _ a gun?” she asked.

“I know how to shoot a gun,” he retorted. “I mean. Kinda. Point and shoot. It’s not that hard. Right?” 

“Oh boy,” Yvette said. 

“Hey, you’d be surprised how well rolling with things seems to work down here. You just gotta be confident,” he replied easily, before remembering and looking off to the side dejectedly. Yvette noticed the movement but held her tongue, frowning. “Well,” Vaughn sniffed, hefting the gun higher. “Surely there’s got to be someone from Hyperion able to f-” he started and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Vaughn?” Yvette asked, turning back around to look at him as she’d walked a couple steps farther. “What is it? What’s wr-oh,” she said, after processing what he’d been saying. “Oh no, oh hell no,” she said, but Vaughn leveled her a pained look of resignation and sighed.   
  
  


The shoddy excuse for a cafeteria, comprised of several scavenged tables with wobbly legs, crooked chairs, and benches, all set out before a makeshift kitchen with grill and pot, was more muted than it had been since Vaughn had set up the first table for the first exhausted survivors. All around her, people moaned about and mourned for Rhys, and Stacey’s knuckles whitened around the tin cup of breakfast stew she held in both her hands. She vaguely wondered what Vaughn would do with the severed mechanical arm. At this rate, it sounded like the others wanted to make a shrine for it, and her stomach churned. 

She was in the middle of shaking her head to herself when a shadow fell across her and she blinked, focusing her sight and looking up. Straight into the barrel of a Hyperion SMG. She felt the color drain from her face, but she set her jaw and looked beyond the gun to see Vaughn holding it and Yvette standing behind him with what looked like a crowbar. Before she could say anything, he flipped the gun around, offering the grip to her.

Startled, she leaned back, uncomprehending. When she didn’t take it, he tossed it onto the table in front of her, making her jerk back the cup of stew protectively. She squinted at the gun and wrinkled her nose.

“Why does it look like it’s been through a blender?” she couldn’t help the words from spilling out of her mouth. 

“Pandora will do that to you,” Vaughn replied with a shrug. “Can you fix it?” he asked, and that drew her attention. She studied his face for a moment before looking back down at the gun. She grimaced and tentatively lifted the grip, rotating the gun on the table so she could see the other side. 

“It’s in pretty rough shape,” she observed. “And it’s an older model,” she said. “You realize I’m in WeaponSys R&D, right? I design and field new guns, not fix up old ones,” she remarked dryly, but Vaughn simply crossed his arms. 

“You  _ were  _ in WeaponSys R&D,” he corrected. ”That doesn’t exist anymore. And this,” he said, nodding to the damaged gun before her, “just might make you useful to the Children of Helios.” 

Stacey looked back down at the SMG and thinned her lips, before giving the faintest nod. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she agreed. 

“Good, Yvette will oversee your progress and get you whatever you need, within reason. Our resources aren’t that great so you’ll have to make do,” he instructed. Stacey looked to Yvette who simply twitched her eyebrows, face otherwise impassive as she rested the crowbar against her shoulder. 

“Peachy,” Stacey said.   
  
  


They put her in a small office with several workbenches and a view of the main hub, and supplied her with as many scavenged tools as they could spare. It took a while, a couple weeks or so, but finally she leaned back and studied her work with a satisfied exhale. The scratches still marred the muzzle, and patches of paint had been scraped away by her tools and machinations as she fixed what parts she could and replaced those she couldn’t. She looked to Yvette, who sat nearby, boredly munching on a piece of fruit and reading some sort of report.

“Where do I get some ammo for this thing?” Stacey asked and Yvette almost laughed. 

“Is it done?” she countered instead. 

“As far as I can get without test firing it,” Stacey reported.

“Alright then, bring it to dinner tonight,” she instructed and stood. “Congratulations, you get the afternoon off,” Yvette said, and left. Looking back down at the scuffed, faded yellow paint on the SMG, Stacey sighed, and rubbed her forehead, getting grease there and for a moment, not caring.   
  
  


That night Stacey found the cafeteria space cleared, the tables pushed to the side, and many of the Children of Helios lining the edge of the track, Vaughn standing in front. She searched the faces, but as had been the case since she’d crawled into the escape pod alone, found no one else she knew. 

“Heard you finished?” Vaughn asked when she was within earshot. Though his words were curt, his tone was friendlier than it had been.

“I said I got as far as I could without firing it,” she clarified. “I won’t know if it’s done until I’ve tested it,” she said and he nodded. 

“Right, well here you go,” he said, handing her a magazine freely. She lifted it, weighing it with a frown. “One shot,” he affirmed. 

“I’m going to need more than that,” she said incredulously. 

“You start with one shot,” he said not unkindly, “and we’ll see how it goes and go from there,” he finished with a smile and a shrug. She looked around at the others behind him. The faces were curious, but not hostile, and she wondered what he’d told them. She nodded and he motioned down the line. She made a face when she realized his gaze led to a skag carcass. “Go ahead,” he urged. 

Carefully, Stacey inspected the gun before loading the magazine, inspecting it again, checking its fit and sturdiness, before bringing it up. She took a breath as she aimed at the carcass, exhaled and gently eased the trigger back. 

POP click; it fired the bullet and the semi-auto kicked in just as she released the trigger. She lowered it and inspected it again to see how it had held up, while scattered applause sounded. She looked up to see Vaughn was one of the few clapping. Yvette seemed unmoved. 

“Good job,” he said. “So I take it it’s done?” he asked. 

“I want to give it a once over but it looks good,” she said. 

“Alright, great,” he said. “I’ll take it when you’re done, and,” he stated, turning around and disappearing through the crowd for a moment, before returning with a crate of scrap. No, not scrap, she realized. “Then you can get to work on these,” he said, showing her the crate full of guns in various states of disrepair. 

Stacey resisted groaning, stretching her lips into a well practiced smile as she stared at the weapons for a moment, before bringing her eyes up to Vaughn’s. “Sure, I’ll get right on it,” she said, putting the SMG on top and taking the crate from him. She noticed the flash of concern in his eyes, but said nothing, as she returned to her space, smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to wait until I finished _Something Strange_ to post this but got impatient. Never fear, _Something Strange_ readers, I'm still working on wrapping up that last chapter. 
> 
> This story started because my brain went a little out of control when I was trying to come up with a backstory for Rhys' once mentioned ex-girlfriend. Backstory which will begin to be explored in the next chapter.
> 
> I just wanted to have something to mention off the cuff in another ficlet and then this happened. Go figure. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	2. Give it to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while (and the next one) for some time and decided to go ahead and call it done.

Back on Helios, before the events that would change, and end, so many lives forever, before Vasquez’s power play, and before Rhys ever even considered setting foot on Pandora, it was a Thursday night like any other.

“So when do I get to see your mysterious prototype?” Rhys asked as he and Stacey strolled down the sweeping halls of Helios’ entertainment district.

“Ahah,” Stacey chided. “You know the drill,” she said stepping in front of him and walking backwards. “You'll see it when it's made the assembly line. Two weeks from now,” she added with a grin he eagerly returned. 

“No fair,” he whined half heartedly. “You get to see me work all the time,” he said with a wave of his robotic hand. “You won't even let me in you lab.”

“Because it's a classified space, babe,” she replied with practiced ease. “Company secrets and all that.”

“So? Like I don't deal with proprietary company information every day,” he said. “Of more than one company, I might add.” 

“And I don't ask you about that now do I?” she asked arching a brow.

“Yea, you do,” he replied with a laugh she echoed.

“Okay true. You don't tell me  _ everything _ though, do you?”

“Valid point,” he conceded.

“And this is WeaponSys, Rhys,” she said with a knowing smirk. “The only thing Hyperion takes more seriously is Security. Doesn't matter how cute you are, they'll string your skinny ass _and_ _mine_ up. No can do, Rhysie honey.”

“Alright alright,” he said. “Put the fangs away. I am duly chastised,” he added.

“Uh huh,” Stacey said as she turned around and fell back into step beside him. “We'll see about that later.”

“Oh, oh really?” Rhys asked, putting a hand on the small of her back. “Is that a promise or a threat?” 

“Can't it be both?” she asked and put a hand in his back pocket, at which he laughed again.

“See, I knew you liked my skinny ass,” he remarked and she snorted. 

“Take me to dinner, tall one,” she ordered and he complied.

“Sure thing, tiny.”   
  
  


The night was still young when they'd finished dinner and they were far from tired, so Stacey and Rhys found themselves bar hopping, and eventually clubbing. Rhys wasn't exactly the best dancer, being all legs, but with enough alcohol and the exuberant Stacey leading him, he managed well enough. 

And so it was in the throbbing mob in one of the many nightclubs on Helios where the night started to go south. In the dark mass something shoved Stacey from behind, sending her stumbling a few steps forward, jostling the drink in her hand and splashing  it all over the both of them. Reflexively Rhys jerked his hands up in the air, lifting his own beer well out of the way.

“Hey, watch it!” Stacey snapped as she spun around and stiffened immediately.  “You,” she hissed, inching back against Rhys’ chest and glaring at the other blonde woman before them.

“Oh, Stacey,” the other woman said above the music, “I didn't see you down there,” she said staring down her nose.

“Fuck off, Char,” Stacey spat and the other woman laughed. 

“God, are you drunk already? What happened to your manners?” the woman Stacey had called Char chided. “You haven't even introduced me to your friend,” she said, sharp blue eyes darting up to Rhys’ and that seemed to annoy some sense into Stacey. She brushed a chunk of hair aside and calmed her slurring tone immensely.

“Rhysie baby this is Charlene, WeaponSys - melee,”  Stacey reported coolly with a wave of her mostly empty tumbler glass. “Char, Rhys, InfoSys - Datamining.”

“Wait, is  _ that  _ your pet nerd? He's a stick! How do you two even-” she laughed and Rhys bristled.

“Okay, that's enough,” he interjected with a forced laugh.

“Oh no, I want to remember this moment,” Charlene said with a dazzling smile. She stepped to the side a bit to reveal a lumbering hulk of a man behind her in the crowd. “You haven't met my boyfriend have you? Karl - security,” she said.

“Wow, I see you went for brawn over brains. Though I guess you know what they say: birds of a feather and all that,” Stacey snipped, startling Rhys with the unbridled venom.

“What'd you say?” the other man growled over the music.

“I called you both dumb,” Stacey replied loudly and Rhys had to refrain from clapping his hand over her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Karl snarled stepping past Charlene and moving to tower over Stacey.

“Okay-okay-okay, let's all just-” Rhys yelped as he mirrored the other man’s movements, putting himself between him and Stacey. “Settle down now, huh? No reason to ruin everyone's night, right?” he said with a casual, if forced, laugh. Though Rhys was taller, the other man had significantly more muscle mass and he chuckled menacingly.

“Your girlfriend’s got a big mouth,” Karl observed.

“Hey asshole-” Stacey slurred and Rhys didn't even have a chance to shush her before Karl spat around Rhys.

“Shut your mouth bitch, the grown ups are talking.”

“Hey now!” Rhys snapped immediately.

“What'd you call me?!”

“Bitch!”

“Back - off!” Rhys demanded over the escalating exchange, his voice rising above the music.

“Or what?” Karl laughed, returning his gaze to Rhys. “You gonna make me, stick man?” he asked, stepping closer so the two of them were practically nose to nose. Rhys swallowed roughly but kept his stare before shifting on his feet and slowly bringing up his beer. In a calculated move, carefully watched by the other couple, he switched the bottle to his robotic hand and took a swig from it, while his echo eye flickered to life.

Rhys handed the bottle back to Stacey and flexed his robotic fingers before dropping his hand to his side and scanning the man before him. It only took a moment before a smirk crawled across his lips.

“Oh man, that's a,” Rhys started and laughed, “that's an interesting browsing history, buddy,” he observed and the other man looked at him searchingly, eyes widening slightly. “Does your girl know you frequent that website? Does your - heyyy, look at those time stamps - does your  _ boss _ know you frequent those websites on the clock?” Karl’s eyes went even wider and in a flash his hand was around Rhys’ throat.

“Not another word, asshole,” he hissed and Rhys choked up a laugh as Stacey gasped behind him. Panic welling up inside him, Rhys brought up his cybernetic hand and grabbed the man’s meaty wrist, slowly increasing the pressure of his grip, and watching Karl’s expression twitch.

Rhys tipped his chin a bit higher trying to stretch his neck and get some air as the other man’s grasp around his throat wavered. It loosened hesitantly as the gears in Rhys’s arm continued to winch tighter, grinding the wrist bones together.

“Hey break it up fellas,” a voice to the side boomed and both hands, flesh and metal, let go. The two backed up, allowing Rhys to gasp for the fresh air his lungs painfully needed. He cast  a wary glance at the bouncer at the edge of the crowd, which he noticed had withdrawn from them at some point, giving the two couples an arena-like ring.

“Just, ah, haha-having a little chat,” Rhys called after clearing his throat and rubbing it once before moving on. He brushed some imaginary dirt off of Karl’s shoulder with his robotic hand and tried to don his best innocent smirk as he laughed uneasily. The bouncer pointed at his own eyes before jabbing his fingers at them in warning and walking off.

“Let's go, Karl,” Charlene said and her lumbering boyfriend stepped farther away from Rhys and Stacey. “We'll see who's laughing next week,” she shot over her shoulder at them and Rhys waved his metal fingers at them.

“Cyborg freak,” Karl hissed and hurried off, clutching his wrist. Rhys turned  back to Stacey and leveled her with a disbelieving stare. She handed him back his beer and grabbed his free hand with hers, leading him off the dance floor, the crowd readily parting to let them pass. 

They reached the bar and Stacey leaned over it but Rhys caught her hand before she could flag down the bartender again and set his own beer down with a resolute clunk.

“Stacey, why did I just piss off someone in security?” he asked and she was shaking her head.

“Don't tell me  _ you _ don't have rivals,” she replied with an aggravated sigh. “What about that Vasquez-guy?”

“Yea but, babe, you've got to be more careful than that,” he breathed and she rubbed her forehead.

“I  _ am, _ ” she retorted, “she's just been goading me for the past month and I can't wait to wipe that smug grin off her face,” she raged through clenched teeth. “I wouldn't worry about her security detail,” she said after taking a steadying breath and looking back up to him. “She goes through guys once a month as far as I can tell.”

Rhys, suddenly feeling incredibly sober after the near altercation, looked down at her skeptically and she sighed, brushing her bangs aside.

“I'm sorry,” she said before pursing her lips. “You were pretty badass back there though,” she said, a giggle slipping out, making his eyebrows shoot up as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, that's good, because it was scary as shit. I haven't gotten into a fight since college,” he said with an uneasy laugh. “And I didn't exactly win that one…” he said frowning and trailing off.

“Well you won that one,” she said, “or at least came out with a solid draw,” she quantified and he snorted

“Thanks,” he scoffed and she leaned into him. 

“Come on, let me buy you a drink, handsome, and let's get back out there; screw those two,” she said, snaking a hand up his chest. Rhys let out a strangled laugh as he put a hand at her back again. 

“Right, screw those two,” he echoed with less exuberance, but followed her lead anyway.   
  
  


A week later, Rhys narrowed his eyes, glaring with a self satisfied smile at his workstation’s display in his office.

“Just gotta tweak this parameter heeere,” he muttered to himself, his ECHO eye flashing, as he twitched his cybernetic arm, modifying and executing the program on his terminal. “Ah ha!” he exclaimed in victory as rows and rows of text crawled across his screen, faster than the human eye could see, but easily catalogued by his cybernetic one, as the proprietary data funneled into Hyperion’s databases of secrets. “I am a  _ God _ ,” he breathed as he stretched his arms above his head. 

His ECHO comm pinged as he returned to a normal sitting position. He answered and Vaughn’s voice hit his ears before the display even came up.

“Hey bro, where are you?” he asked. 

“Still in the office. Just wrapping things up,” he reported, blinking blearily. 

“I take it that means you did  _ not  _ go to the store then?” Vaughn asked. 

“Nope, sorry,” Rhys replied. He checked the time. “And I’ve gotta head to Stacey’s; you know how she gets if I'm late,” he said. 

“Yea, I figured,” Vaughn said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll go to the store; you need anything?” 

“ _ Coffee. _ And bags of those little puff things. And eggs and bacon. And ice cream!” 

“Your diet is astounding, bro,” Vaughn remarked. “It’s a miracle you aren’t like a thousand pounds.” 

“Fast metabolism for the win, bro” Rhys preened.

“Alright, alright, save it for Stacey,” Vaughn laughed. “Besides it  _ is _ going to catch up with you, you know. Soon. We're not in college anymore,” he warned. 

“Okay,  _ mom _ ,” Rhys said with a smirk. “I'll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Don't forget to wash behind your ears,” Vaughn goaded with a grin. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye,” Rhys said as he terminated the connection and locked his terminal. With a wave of his robotic hand he put his office to sleep for the night, the lights dimming as he exited and headed to one of the many residential wards of the space station.   
  
  


Rhys came to a halt at the familiar door and palmed the panel to ring the bell, before running a hand through his hair. He waited for a moment but no answer came. He palmed the controls again and still received no response. He put an ear to the door. 

“Stacey?” he called, but couldn’t hear anything. He knocked; his metal digits clanged loudly against the sleek door. “Stacey?” he called again, but continued to receive no response. He took a step back and opened the palm of his cybernetic hand, bringing up the hacking interface.

Within seconds he’d bypassed the lock and was inside the small studio apartment. 

“Stacey, baby, if you gave me the credentials I wouldn’t have to hack my way in half the time,” he called with forced nonchalance as he exited the hallway to the single open space. “It’s Thursday!” he reminded. “Date night, honey...” he said with a laugh. 

The room was dark, her bed messy and unoccupied, the couch casting a long shadow against the kitchen in front of the ceiling height holographic TV broadcast display. As he slowed his steps entering the inner area of the room, he slid his eyes with a knowing glance to the couch and the amorphous blob on top of it. 

He came up behind the couch and leaned over it. 

“Staceyyy,” he whispered, carefully draping his arms over the edge and stroking the crown of blonde hair peeking out from under a cocoon of blankets. An unintelligible, muffled mewl sounded from under them, and soon enough the blankets receded to reveal a sleepy, square face. “It’s Thursday,” he repeated quietly and she closed her eyes. 

“Date night,” she breathed. 

“Yep,” he said as he hung over the back of the couch. She threw the blankets down; they got as far as her knees, to reveal the tee shirt she’d already changed into. Rhys stared for a moment, at once wondering idly how a baggy tee shirt could be so alluring and why she ever even wore pants. Scratch that. She didn’t. She wore skirts, he remembered, as he stared at her exposed legs.

God bless skirts. And shirts. And she was waiting for him to continue, wasn’t she, he realized, and brought his eyes back up to her face. She was laughing now at least. 

“I take it you don’t want to go out?” he asked, trying to maintain some amount of dignity despite the blush crawling across his face, and she shook her head. 

“No, rough day,” she said. He poked her feet, and she drew them up underneath the rest of her, before he hopped over the back of the couch and landed beside her. 

“But you love-” he trailed off as he looked to her exhausted, fed up face at his side. “Okay, staying home. Definitely, staying home,” he agreed. He pursed his lips in thought. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” she said, with a sudden hint of energy, which gave him pause. 

“...Do you want a hug?” he asked, sending her a sidelong stare and he was certain if she hadn’t thrown the blankets aside earlier she would have drawn them up to her chin. 

“...Yes,” she squeaked quietly and in an extravagant show, he enveloped her in a hug. Long limbs wrapped around her easily and she turned into him and they sat like that for a moment, saying nothing. Eventually he broke the silence.

“You want something to eat?” he asked and she shrugged.

“Sure,” she said and he disentangled himself and went over to the small kitchen area. 

“What do you want?” he asked as he opened the fridge. He tilted his head with a snort of laughter as he was greeted by mostly empty shelves. “What do you  _ have _ ?” he amended. “Should we order in?”

“I think there's something in the freezer,” she called and he opened that instead. 

“Aha,” he breathed and pulled out a pre prepared meal, tearing open the package, depositing the contents on a baking sheet, and setting the oven temperature with a wave of his cybernetic hand. He turned back around as Stacey approached him, running a hand through her long, feathered hair.

“You are so good to me,” she said with a curl of her lips as she got up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Mm,” he said against her mouth as he bent forward, putting his hands on her hips. “I do try,” he replied with a tilt of his head and a grin, before ducking back down to place a kiss on the side of her lips and then taking them in his again. 

After some time the oven beeped, driving them apart. Exhaling heavily, his pulse already in his ears he turned away and put the frozen food in the oven. 

As he straightened, manicured hands slid around his sides and across his stomach in a hug, and he felt her cheek against his shoulder blades.

“I want to pretend today didn't happen,” she said, and his eyebrows drew together with concern. What could have happened? The way she's talking it sounded like she lost her job. But obviously she didn't because she's still, well, alive. Demoted maybe, he thought with a sinking feeling. 

Rhys realized he'd been quiet for too long when her hands twitched against his stomach and he turned around in her arms. He opened his mouth to say something but she beat him to it.

“Want to help me forget?” she asked, a hint of a smirk hitching her lips to the side. And like that his trepidation was replaced by eagerness.

“You, my dear, have come to the right man,” he said, brows lowering and a smile widening into a deviously suave look, before dropping down and capturing her in another kiss. Three surfaces, about five positions, and one inopportunely timed oven timer later, and they were laying in bed, appetites sated and thoroughly satisfied. 

Well. For the most part.

Given that her back was pressed against his chest, he could not see her face, but even in his sleepy haze he could feel her eyelashes fluttering against the skin of his normal arm he had snaked underneath her as a pillow. He drew his mechanical arm up from where it had been resting over her waist and put it atop one of her hands, intertwining digits and fingers. 

She heaved a little sigh, not a happy one, at that, and he frowned.

“Stacey, what's wrong?” he prodded softly.

“We promised,” she said. “No work talk in the bedroom.” He considered that for a moment. It was true. It was safer that way.

Sure, they helped each other out often enough. This was Hyperion. It would be insane and damn near  _ impossible _ not to use all resources at your fingertips. And other places. 

But one of the reasons they'd managed to stay together so long was because they never brought up work literally in bed. At least, that couldn't just be a coincidence, could it? He realized he'd gone stiff and silent too long again when she removed her hand from his and shifted forward a bit, wriggling out of his arms.

“Sorry,” she declared. “Shouldn't have mentioned it.”

“Stacey, you don't have a bedroom, baby,” he quickly said with a rushed laugh. “And I'm pretty sure we've talked about work before in your apartment.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, folding her hands under her cheek. It was colder without the skin to skin contact and he knew he wasn't the only one to notice. He propped his head up with his regular hand, freed from its duties as pillow, and dropped his cybernetic one in front of him in the gap on the bed.

“Yea, I know,” he agreed with a defeated sigh. He ran his cybernetic hand through his tousled hair, slicking  it back temporarily once more. “Is it about what happened last week? That… Friend of yours we had a run in with at the club?”

“Rhys…” Stacey warned.

“I just…” he started, before shutting his mouth with a grimace, and taking another deep breath. “I just want to help,” he finally confessed. “I can't stand seeing you like this. What's wrong?” he asked again.

She turned around to face him then, her look puzzled but cautious.

“You don't even know what help I might need,” she pointed out and his nervous grin he hoped looked reassuring twitched a bit to the side.

“Yea, I know,” he said. “You got me there.” He brought his robotic hand up and brushed a sweaty clump of blonde bangs out of her eyes. “Just tell me what's wrong, at least,” he urged and after a moment of chewing her lip, she complied.

“That project I've been working on for two years? The H2300-03? Remember how it was gonna get green lit at the review this month?” she asked and he nodded. “Well,  _ something _ happened - and now Charlene’s stupid stun baton mod is  _ suddenly _ a big deal,” she hissed, in an indignant whine. “The ‘next big thing,’ and it's gonna get the approval instead of me. Instead of  _ my _ revolver!” she said in an angry rush. 

Rhys was looking off to the side, brain working away. Stacey took a couple heaving deep breaths before she could continue at a much lower tone.

“Do you know how big of a deal designing the first Hyperion made revolver would be? The hurdles I had to jump through to get this far? It wouldn't have gotten to this point of it wasn't a sure thing,” Stacey whispered. “I think she's sleeping with the review committee chairman,” she hissed spitefully. “It's the only thing I can figure.”

“Ah, aha,” Rhys said, nodding and squinting, as he considered his options. Stacey rubbed her forehead and thinned her lips, exhaling through her nose.

“I'm just… going to have to start all over. They table projects that don't get greenlit, you know,” she said with a sigh. “All that work, all those favors… down the drain,” she whispered and he felt a pang. He'd been a part of those favors, Yvette and Vaughn too sometimes at his sparing requests. 

Determination schooling his face, Rhys brought up his cybernetic hand and initialized the hacking interface. Her breathing hitched as she watched, coming slightly faster. Navigating certain parts of Hyperion’s network was easy at this point, watching, even manipulating network traffic, finding a user’s data: child's play. He hadn't dared touch security systems though, and he hoped he'd never have to.

Soon enough, he found what he was looking for; a triumphant smirk twitched upon his lips without his knowledge. Another firewall blocked him though, and a layer of encryption he didn't recognize. His eyebrows rose up and he breathed, “oh you wanna dance?” before making a few adjustments. 

He was always careful of how long he was in Hyperion’s systems. And this time was no exception. He managed through the supplemental firewall, but had little time to deal with the encryption. Luckily, he didn't have to decrypt it so much as… Tweak it.

Rhys clenched his fist in victory, terminating the program and the connection. He smiled at Stacey, who stared silently, open mouthed.

“Gosh, it seems your friend Charlene’s file system encountered a bit of a… problem,” he said. “Won't be able to salvage those most likely. What a shame,” he added.

“But,” Stacey breathed. “Backups, surely she has backups. A momentary setback, no real damage.”

“Uh uh,” Rhys replied with a confident smirk. “As soon as she plugs those files, any files, into the network, with her credentials? Infected. There's a pseudo random time decay so it won't be obvious but the next morning, maybe day after? Any progress, any recovery she's managed? Forget about it,” he explained, and for the first time that day, Stacey's face broke out into a bright, wide smile. 

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise,” he replied. As she searched for an adequate reply, Rhys basked in the warmth of her grin, and the giddiness he got for every win, and then some.

She lunged forward and gave him a kiss, pulling back only a few inches. 

“You're my hero,” she exclaimed, putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing him again. He smiled like a fool between fervent kisses, her words echoing louder in his mind than her ministrations as she pushed him back and mounted him, her appetite renewed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter wasn't so good... I'm refraining from writing lots of whiny justifications... 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy it though!


	3. Love Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their victory is short lived and Rhys quickly finds himself scrambling to do some damage control. Both professionally and personally.

Rhys returned to his office the next morning, automatically throwing the Handsome Jack posters a quick wink and a cocked finger gun before sliding into his chair.

And freezing immediately. 

The display was on, holographic terminal no longer suspended, but locked, he realized as he scanned it in a rush. And not by him. 

“SEE ME. NOW.” Angry bold letters flickered on the blue screen. He brought up his cybernetic hand to confirm, and yes, he realized with dread as he found the last touched by flag: it was from his boss.

“Okay, don't panic,” he breathed as he grabbed the desk to steady himself. “You've got nothing to worry about; you've done no-huh-hothing wrong,” he chanted, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning forward. Except for that whole corrupting Charlene’s files thing, he added to himself silently. With a quivering breath he stood and went to face the music.

Rhys tugged on his vest, straightening an imaginary crease, before knocking at his boss’ door. After a brief pause, the doors opened to reveal the cavernous office with a planet side view. The small man behind the desk seemed like a child in such an office, but the murderous look on his face quickly washed away  _ that  _ impression. 

“Rhys. Here,” he ordered shortly, jabbing a finger at his desk, making Rhys jump with the ferocity. Henderson was usually such a kindly fellow. For Hyperion at least. 

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Rhys yelped as he scurried forward and stopped short at the desk. He gulped, looking down at his boss, who seemed to be devouring him with his eyes.

“Sit,” he said, and Rhys complied. Henderson looked at his terminal then with a half sigh half growl. “Son, what in the blazes did you think you were doing?” he asked after a while. Rhys opened his mouth but couldn't seem to reply. 

“I got a memo from  _ Chief of Security  _ this morning telling me one of  _ my _ people did some serious damage to one of  _ their _ contracted projects,” he said and Rhys’ mouth snapped shut. She didn't  _ tell _ him it was already under contract. 

Then again... He hadn't really asked.

“Heads roll for that kind of thing, Rhys. The only reason I'm not handing yours over on a platter is because you're too valuable. You’ve got too much potential - Hyperion’s invested too much in you - to toss you out that easily,” Henderson said, his gaze flicking heavily to Rhys’ cybernetic enhancements.

“I had to call in a lot of favors to get the heat off your neck and convince R&D that you'd get that stupid little time bomb off their engineer’s account,” he added and Rhys found himself nodding along, his throat tight and his mouth dry. “I don't know what possessed you to hack WeaponSys R&D of all things, I thought you were smarter than that; but you step another toe out of line and…” Henderson warned, leaning back with a sigh of resignation. “I won't be able to protect you. Understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Rhys croaked out. “I am so,  _ so  _ sorry… to have put you in this position, sir, you've got to believe me,” he said and though Henderson was nodding he looked away and waved him off. 

“Sure you are,” he said with a hint of bitterness. “Now go call off your cyber minions and be glad Security caught them before the backups were corrupted as well. Go,” Henderson urged and Rhys didn't need to be told twice. 

Rhys was out of the office in record time and didn't notice when one of the guards patrolling the hall made straight for him. At least, he didn't notice until the guard lashed out with the butt of his rifle, smashing into Rhys’ face and sending him to the ground. 

“AUGH! What the crap?! Ahh,” Rhys cried, instantly bringing his hand up to his face to catch the blood that started streaming from his nose. He looked up through watering eyes at the armored guard towering over him.

“Nice try, asshole,” came the voice, filtered but familiar.

“Oh crap, it's you,” Rhys groaned as he recognized the hulking figure now, Karl.

“That's right. Try that shit again and it won't be the butt of my gun you'll be facing,” Kurt warned and Rhys glowered silently. “What? No witty reply?” he asked and snorted. “Good. You and your loudmouth bitch remember that, cyborg freak,” he said and stalked off. Casting his gaze around the halls, Rhys noticed the other guards normally posted outside Henderson’s office were distinctly absent, and he didn't have to scan the security cameras to see they'd been disabled temporarily. 

He cursed and got to his feet, his regular hand cupping his nose as he scurried to the nearest bathroom. Leaning over the sink he gently put a tissue under his nose, trying to stem the blood flow and clean up. Eventually he stuck twirled pieces of tissue up his nostrils and went to work trying to get the blood out of his vest, hoping he'd gotten it wet quickly enough.

Quite some time later, with a very wet upper half and a throbbing nose he plopped down at his desk and just sat there for a good couple minutes.

“Oh crap,” he sighed in a small voice with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his throat as he swallowed heavily and stared at his closed door. 

As the reality of having pissed off both Security and WeaponSys settled on his shoulders he groaned apprehensively, and got to work tracking down the malicious traces he'd left the night before.   
  
  


It took him all morning but he did it. He was on coffee number I-don't-know in the usual cafeteria when Yvette and Vaughn wandered up to him with their lunch trays.

“I told you that lump looked like our lump,” Yvette said, nodding to Rhys, who was hunched over said coffee, one hand on it and the other his forehead. “Woah, okay, that does not look like a happy lump,” she observed as they joined him at the table. “What happened to your face?”

“It - uh - it doesn't matter; I did something really stupid, guys,” he said.

“What?” Vaughn prompted. “What do you mean it  _ doesn't matter _ ? Did-did someone hit you??”

“Yea, but that's not the worst part; I - guys, I hacked WeaponSys and got  _ caught _ ,” Rhys exclaimed and they both froze.

“What the - why would you - how are you even  _ alive _ ? Should we be expecting you to be hauled off any second now?” Vaughn stuttered, looking around for lurking security guards.

“Henderson took the heat for me, but we're going to have to lay low for a while,” Rhys reported.

“Damn it, Rhys,” Vaughn said, making him wince. “We've been working on Henderson for ages.” 

“I know,” Rhys replied shamefully.

“And now we're gonna have to dial it back,” Vaughn said, touching his glasses and studying the scrolling numbers it summoned.

“I  _ know _ ,” Rhys repeated; Vaughn noted the flash of frustration there and sighed.

“Well… At least you're alive,” he said. “Could be worse. A lot worse.”

“Yea,” Rhys sighed. “Yea… Crap, I'm gonna have to apologize to Stacey.”

“Apologize?” Vaughn repeated. “Don't tell me you hacked WeaponSys for her.”

“ _ Of course _ he hacked WeaponSys for  _ her _ ,” Yvette said. “Who else would he do it for?” she asked before training her piercing stare back on Rhys. “What happened to running major action plans by the group, Rhys?” 

“I know, I know; I was just - she was just - she was so sad and I thought I could help and-”

“And she used you,” Yvette declared. “I knew it. I knew she couldn't be trusted.”

“What?” Rhys yelped, back suddenly stiffening with indignation. “She did not!”

“Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions, Yvette?” Vaughn asked. “This is  _ Stacey _ were talking about. Rhys’ girlfriend of two  _ years _ .”

“One year and eleven months,” Rhys corrected, “our anniversary is coming up,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “But right - this is Stacey! Everybody loves Stacey.” His brows came together and he frowned a bit for a moment, thinking of their encounter with her coworker, before adding: “Well almost everybody.”

“That's just it! Nobody is beloved by all without playing a game; she's too nice.”

“So you're basing your theory that Stacey is using me on the fact that she's too nice?” Rhys asked. “That's ridiculous.”

“She  _ is _ though; she makes guns for a living, for crying out loud. No one that makes killing machines day in and day out  _ here _ is  _ that nice _ .”

“Yvette, you're my friend and I love you dearly but please stop talking,” Rhys said and she drew her lips together in a frown. “Besides, she can surprise you…” 

“Fine,” she said. Rhys checked the time and groaned. 

“I've gotta get back to work. I'm behind on my actual job now since I wasted all morning trying to clean up this mess…” he whined and stood. “Just… Watch yourselves,” Rhys added.

“You too, Rhys,” Vaughn called after him and Rhys left his friends in a tense silence.   
  
  


Back in his office, Rhys was hacking up a storm as he tried to catch up on his work later that afternoon when his door opened without preamble. His work never stopping, he glanced up to see Stacey hurrying in. 

“Oh crap,” he breathed as he returned his gaze to the displays in front of him. She rounded his desk to come up beside him and crossed her arms. 

“Oh crap indeed,” she said. “So you know why I’m here?” He’d really hoped he’d have more time. She opened her mouth to say something else but closed it as she looked at him closer, anger mixing with confused concern. “What happened to your face?”

“I ran into one of your  _ friends  _ from last week,” Rhys remarked. “Listen, I’m really,  _ really  _ busy right now. This is - this is not a good time,” he said and her eyes flashed, glinting sharply again.

“Not a good time?” she repeated tersely, her voice tight. “No kidding. Mind telling me how those files you  _ promised  _ were taken care of before the review are  _ still there _ ? I thought the backups were supposed to be no good?” Stacey asked. “You  _ promised  _ me.” 

“I got caught, okay?” he replied and her eyes widened a bit at that. “I had to go in and undo it all or  _ else _ ,” he said in a frustrated rush. Her arms uncrossed and her brown eyes darted around the room as she seemed to deflate. Rhys’ movements paused and he sighed, pushing back from his workstation. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he added. “If it makes you feel any better your friend’s security guard boyfriend smashed my face in earlier so... There's that.”

“Oh crap,” she breathed and he had to let out a brief chuckle. 

“Right?” he replied and she brought a hand up to her face, covering her eyes as she wrapped her other arm around herself again. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just… I can’t believe it. I thought we did it. I thought we  _ won _ .”

“We’ll get you the green light next time,” Rhys said and she was shaking her head as she dropped her hand back down. 

“That can’t - this can’t be it,” she stuttered, blinking wildly. “There’s got to be something else we can do. Henderson thinks it was just you?” she asked quickly.

“I don’t know. He didn’t mention anybody else, but he’s not stupid. He must know I didn’t do it for myself but probably doesn’t want to get any more involved than he already is,” Rhys answered, thinking. 

“Maybe you can try again? You must’ve figured out how you got caught right?” 

“No way,” Rhys said. “My accounts are being monitored for  _ sure  _ now.” 

“Then we find another account,” she suggested and he squinted at her before shaking his head. 

“I’m not even sure how they caught me yet, babe,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do differently.” She cursed and looked away at that and he reached out to her. She didn’t uncross her arms but she let him pull her closer as she chewed her lip. 

“I know; this sucks,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta catch up on things but why don’t you let me make it up to you tonight, huh?” he asked, putting on a hopeful, consoling smirk. She looked at him then guardedly. “What do you say?” he prompted, tilting his head back as he looked up at her from his chair. 

“C’mere,” he said, reaching up for her, and again she let herself be led, this time down to his lips, which she met with a soft kiss. She unfolded her arms as she dipped back down for another, careful of his tender nose and put her hands on his shoulders for support. He caught her lips one more time between his before she drew back, pressing her lips together and leaning forward again, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug.

“Maybe we could… try something else,” she whispered haltingly, her lips by his ear, and he frowned slightly, blinking in confusion, as her knees came to rest on the chair on either side of his hips. She pulled back again, so she could face him as she straddled him, bringing one hand down from his neck to rest on his chest. “If the funds were to suddenly expire, or get reallocated…” she suggested. 

“You mean from the contract with  _ Security _ ?” he asked, almost uncomprehending. 

“Vaughn could do that, right?” she asked and Rhys couldn’t help but scoff. 

“Stacey, yea, he  _ could _ , but it’d practically be suicide,” he laughed. “Of all the places to siphon money from - Hyperion Security is  _ not _ one of them,” he remarked. “And Vaughn isn't happy with us right now in the first place for this whole… thing. No way I’d even be able to finish asking before he’d say no.” Stacey hesitated a moment, searching his face with sharp, deep brown eyes before continuing. 

“Then… don’t ask,” she said. “You’re a hacker, aren’t you?” she asked, a hint of a challenge in her small voice and suddenly Rhys felt like he couldn’t move; he could only stare.

“Just… what exactly are you asking me to do?” he found himself asking in disbelief.

“It probably wouldn’t even be that hard, right?” she asked, finding strength in his silence. “He doesn’t sleep with those glasses on, I’m sure. You could just use those,” she said. He quickly broke the silence at that. 

“No!” he said, louder than he’d anticipated. His initial vehemence startled her too and she flinched backwards in his lap. “No,” he repeated. “I’m not doing that to Vaughn; what the hell, Stacey,” he exclaimed.

“I'm sorry,” she quickly replied, leaning back further and putting a hand over her face as she shook her head again. “It was just a thought - it -” Rhys put his hands on her hips and ushered her off his lap with a grimace. “There just - there has to be another way,” she said taking another step back as he turned his chair back to the workstation. 

“No, Stacey. We lost this one. The sooner we admit it, the sooner we can nurse our wounds and move on to the next opportunity,” he said angrily before shooting her a glare out of the corner of his eye. “And I’m going to try and forget you just suggested I  _ stab my best friend in the back _ .” She wrapped her arms around herself again, her face screwed up in a mixture of anguish and… something else. Rhys didn’t look at her long enough to try and figure out what it was, the fury churning in his stomach. 

Without a word, Stacey went around the desk and strode out of his office, leaving it suddenly silent and stifling as Rhys tried to read the information on the displays in front of him through the hurt.   
  
  


Vaughn grabbed the salad dressing from the fridge in the apartment he shared with Rhys when the front door opened. He paused in front of the fridge after he closed the door and looked to the hallway. 

“Rhys? I thought you were working late?” he called as he set down the dressing and a distinctly different voice answered him. 

“It’s me, Vaughn,” Stacey replied as she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Oh. Hi,” he said stiffly, frowning as his brows furrowed. Unsure if she’d heard the news yet, he played things close to the chest. “Rhys is working late,” he added flatly. 

“I know,” she said. “And it’s my fault,” she explained. Ah, so she did know.

“Yea,” Vaughn agreed. “It is.”

“I wanted to apologize,” she said. “You’ve both done so much for me.” 

“Well,” Vaughn said, shifting on his feet. “Like I said, Rhys isn’t here right now.” 

“I know,” she replied from the doorway to the hall still. “I already apologized to him,” she said. “I wanted to apologize to you,” she said quietly, her eyebrows rising plaintively. He shifted again on his feet as he regarded her oddly. 

“Uh, okay, I guess,” he said, suddenly realizing in the near two years she’d been dating Rhys, they’d been alone together only a handful of times as she stepped into the kitchen with him. And he was suddenly very uncomfortable with this realization. She blinked, pausing for a moment as her eyes darted back and forth over his face, searching it.

Stacey heaved a frustrated sigh, rubbing her forehead under her bangs and looking to the side. 

“Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Rhys help me. I was just so desperate,” she said with a shake of her head before bringing her gaze back up to meet Vaughn’s. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…” she added, trailing off. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“What, like a favor?” he asked skeptically and for the first time since she’d appeared she looked a tad bit hopeful. 

“Within reason, of course,” she said. “If that’s what you want,” she added and he arched an eyebrow at that. She dropped her gaze to the floor and rubbed her forehead again. “I’m just - i’m sorry okay?” she said, keeping her head angled down as she looked up at him through her bangs and he realized this somehow made her about as short as him. If possible, Vaughn’s brow arched even higher as he slid along the counter a bit farther away from the door.

“Yea, sure, I guess,” he said, and she tilted her head back with a deep breath. “Just - don’t make him do something like that again, okay? That was too close. You could have gotten him  _ killed _ .”

“That’s it? That’s all you want?” she asked, after consulting the ceiling for a moment. 

“Yea,” he replied quickly. “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. She shook her head, her chunky layered hair flaring out.

“Nothing” she said, putting a hand on the doorframe. “I won’t do it again. I promise,” she added and turned around. “I’ll just be on my way then…” 

“Yea, okay, bye,” Vaughn said somewhat sharply and the look she threw over her shoulder was positively murderous. A sharp electric chill went down his spine but the look was gone in a flash, so fleeting that he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, and she disappeared into the hallway. He didn’t move until he heard the door open, her step through, and the door close behind her. And even then he went to the door to the hallway and cautiously peered out into it, confirming she’d left. 

Vaughn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and looked around. 

“What the hell just happened?” he asked the empty apartment.    
  
  


Rhys didn’t get home until late that night. The door was locked; Vaughn must have headed out or to bed early. Rhys palmed it open with his credentials. The apartment was dark as the door shut behind him and he rubbed his aching neck, walking down the hallway. 

“Hey,” Vaughn’s voice startled him when he entered the living room. The wall display flickered in front of him as he stood from the couch, wringing his hands. 

“You just been sitting here waiting for me, bro?” Rhys asked with a forced laugh. “I told you I’d be late.” 

“I know, it’s just - this day has been all sorts of weird,” Vaughn replied. 

“Tell me about it,” Rhys groaned as he went to the liquor cabinet. “I never want to be called into Henderson’s office like that again.” 

“No, I mean, not the thing from lunch,” Vaughn said, angling to follow Rhys’ movements. Rhys tossed a glance over his shoulder at his friend as he pulled out a bottle of honey bourbon and a glass. “Stacey was here,” Vaughn quickly reported and that got Rhys’ attention. 

“What?” Rhys asked, turning back to face him. 

“I think - she was acting all sorts of weird. She  _ never  _ talks to me when you’re not around. I mean, she doesn’t  _ ignore  _ me but she’s never come  _ here  _ to talk to  _ me _ ,” he said. 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked. 

“That she was sorry and desperate and wanted to make it up to me and - yea, it sounded  _ really  _ weird,” Vaughn said. “I asked if she meant like a favor or something and she said ‘if that’s what you want’ and was just all - weird - and -”

“I get it; she was acting weird,” Rhys said as he frowned.  

“I told her to not ask you to do something like that again,” Vaughn reported. “That’s all.” Rhys stared at the wall display for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “Bro?” 

“She was acting weird this afternoon too,” he said quietly. “Came to visit me in my office. All angry, then sad, just - all over the place - and then… she wanted me to steal your glasses,” he said. 

“What?!” Vaughn cried, reaching up to push them farther up the bridge of his nose unconsciously. 

“To use them to wipe out her rival’s contract funding,” Rhys said, returning his attention to Vaughn. 

“What the hell,” Vaughn exclaimed and Rhys couldn’t help the laugh. 

“That’s what I said,” he replied. “After ‘no,’ of course.” 

“No offense bro, but I am  _ beginning _ to see Yvette’s point here,” Vaughn said and Rhys turned back around to pour the drink. He pushed an exhale out through his nose, though it stung, the swelling had finally gone down enough. Rhys gave the glass a little shake. 

“You want some?” he asked, though he knew the answer. 

“No thanks,” Vaughn replied. “But really, what the hell is with her?”

Rhys took a sip from the glass, grimacing a bit at the burning sensation warming his throat, and licked his lips. 

“She’s just desperate,” he replied. “She’ll get over it, but… yea, wow,” he said with an incredulous snort.

“Rhys, I’m concerned,” Vaughn said. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

“It - me too,” Rhys agreed. He went and plopped down onto the couch with a heavy sigh, Vaughn following suit. “What the hell, man,” he breathed and took another sip. Vaughn opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He repeated the motion several times before Rhys groaned. “Come on, bro. Say whatever you’ve got to say.” Rhys dragged a hand across his forehead tiredly, before massaging his bare temple. “I’m too tired to be mad.” 

“Do you think she’s been playing the long game?” Vaughn asked and just like that Rhys felt all the air leave him in one prolonged exhale, as he slumped further into the sofa. 

“I -” he started before stopping, and letting his head fall back against the back of the sofa, taking a deep breath. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t know,” he added, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s never been this weird before, bro. Sure we've had our disagreements but… Almost two years… a pretty long time to pretend, right?”

“Maybe… she’s not pretending,” Vaughn suggested. “But just has… different priorities,” he said and Rhys laughed. 

“Right, career advancement first, me second, everything else expendable,” Rhys said.  

“Yea, something like that,” Vaughn said and Rhys ran his hand through his hair again before bringing his head back forward and taking another sip of his drink. 

“I think… I don’t know what I think. But I think I need some space,” he breathed and Vaughn nodded. “Just… A day or two…” Rhys said. “Until this whole thing blows over. I just - don’t want to find out what else she’ll ask… Once she can accept we got outplayed, we can… I don’t know… get back to normal. Restart,” Vaughn nodded again and glanced towards the hallway. 

“We… might want to revoke her permissions to the door,” Vaughn pointed out. “Or… put my glasses in a lockbox,” he said before shooting Rhys an apologetic look. “I don’t mean anything, but you said yourself she-” Rhys groaned. 

“No, That’s… a valid point,” he said and brought up his cybernetic hand. The process was so quick Vaughn couldn’t follow the transactions on the holographic display, but in seconds Rhys dropped his hand again, and leaned his head back once more. “Done.” 

“For the record Rhys…” Vaughn started. “It doesn't matter what Yvette and I think… Stacey’s  _ your _ girlfriend. We just… Want you to be happy. And alive. Alive would be good.”

Rhys sighed and nodded before standing.    


“I think I’m turning in early,” he said. “Well, not early because it’s late but -” 

“I got you,” Vaughn replied but Rhys didn’t move towards his bedroom, pausing momentarily instead. “Rhys?” he prompted. 

“Ah, yea, sorry,” Rhys yelped, before turning back to his friend. “Listen, about yesterday and - all this - mess - I'm sorry,” he said. “We cool?” he asked, and Vaughn blinked at him. 

“Of course we’re cool, bro,” Vaughn replied. “I’m sorry I snapped earlier. I just-” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Rhys said, waving him off. “I’m the one that screwed up,” he added quietly, turning away and staring at his door. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Vaughn said and Rhys nodded absently as he plodded off to his room. 

“G’night,” Rhys called. 

“Night, bro,” Vaughn replied and Rhys closed his door.    
  
  


Later, in the wee hours of the morning in the dimly lit hallways of Helios’ residential quarter, a slender hand palmed the controls to a door that wouldn’t open. Lips thinned and a deep shuddering inhale was drawn through flaring nostrils before a resigned sigh accompanied the dropping hand. 

“Crap,” Stacey whispered and walked briskly away from her soon to be ex-boyfriend’s apartment.    
  
  


The swelling in Rhys’ nose had gone down even more by the time he woke up, but spectacular shades of yellow and green splotches marred his complexion. Something Vaughn pointed out again the next morning. 

“So what  _ exactly  _ happened to your face?” he asked as Rhys joined him for breakfast at the small table in the kitchen. 

“Stacey’s rival Char-whats-her-face has a boyfriend in security - who decided it would be just  _ so much  _ fun to one up me yesterday after I got chewed out by Henderson,” Rhys explained. Vaughn’s eyebrows rose up over the frames of his glasses as he stared a bit more. “I might’ve almost broken his wrist with my robot arm at the club a week ago,” he added in a small voice. 

“Rhys!” 

“He was trying to choke me, okay? It seemed a perfectly appropriate course of action,” Rhys retorted as he shoveled food into his mouth. 

“You should probably consider apologizing, Rhys,” Vaughn pointed out and Rhys wrinkled his nose slightly before wincing with instant regret. 

“I’d really rather not,” he replied and Vaughn sighed. 

“If you don’t want to talk to the security guy then at least apologize to - whatever her name is. She can probably get him to back off,” Vaughn suggested, barely touching his own food while Rhys had almost finished his. Rhys groaned into his coffee mug as he took a sip. “You know I’m right,” Vaughn added pointedly. “We don’t need anymore enemies - and the longer you put it off the less they’ll be inclined to accept your apology.” 

“What makes you so sure it’ll do anything? She’ll probably just laugh in my face - maybe punch it for good measure.” 

“Because she’s smart,” Vaughn replied. “She’s gotta be if her team routed your hack. And if she’s smart she’ll understand the value of easing tensions between us.” 

“Why do you always have to make sense,” Rhys moaned as he picked up his empty plate and put it in the nearby dishwasher. 

“Because I too am smart,” Vaughn said with a satisfied smile. “You are too - when you’re not being stubborn.” 

“Oh, I’m being stubborn now?” Rhys asked with a little laugh as he turned back to Vaughn, leaning back against the counter.  Vaughn stood too and nudged Rhys aside to put away his own dish. 

“Do the thing, bro,” Vaughn urged. “I have to go run some errands - you okay?” he asked and Rhys nodded with a sigh before bringing up his cybernetic hand. 

“Yea, yea, I’ll… try and figure out how to do this I guess,” he said and activated the hacking interface, losing himself in the task as Vaughn  headed out.    
  
  


Sometime later Rhys waited, leaning on the wall near the entrance to an upscale cafe in the entertainment sector of the space station. Rhys activated his ECHO eye and engaged in his favorite past time when bored and in public: scanning random passersby. Sometimes he found interesting little tidbits he’d flag and store for later but it most just passed the time. 

Eventually, the name he was waiting for popped up in the readouts and he deactivated the cybernetics, blinking and leaving the wall as he trained his regular vision on the other blonde weapons developer. He wondered briefly if there was a dress code in WeaponSys as he approached but shook the idle thought when her gaze settled upon him. He saw the flash of recognition, and then slight panic, before Charlene schooled her features into a neutral expression and stopped walking out of the cafe. 

“Have you been following me?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip. 

“Ah, no,” Rhys replied honestly. “I checked your schedule,” he reported and saw her eyes widen a bit again. She clucked her tongue. 

“Hacking me again?” she asked. “So soon? And here we thought you’d learned your lesson.” 

“Hey-ey,” he said patting the air placatingly. “I just wanted to talk to you - had to find you somehow, didn’t I?” he asked. “I promise I didn’t look at anything else. You uh, might want to schedule a bit bigger of a buffer between dates though,” he said with a wink.  “Playin’ a bit risky.” 

“You act like it’s a secret,” she said, arching a brow, and after a quizzical look he coughed into his hand. 

“Ah, well, then…” he stammered. “Listen I just wanted to, you know, bury the hatchet,” he said, and she only regarded him with blatant skepticism. “For hacking you - and all that,” he added. “No hard feelings, right?” 

“This is your idea of an apology?” Charlene asked.   

“Uhhh, yes?” he replied and she actually laughed at that, her hand dropping from her hip. 

“Try again,” she said and he groaned. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? What can I do to make it up to you?” Rhys asked before he quickly brought up a hand. “And keep Stacey out of this,” he stated sharply. Char dipped her chin and looked up at him defiantly. 

“Well, what’s the good in that?” she asked. “You do realize we’re rivals, right? I have no use for a favor I can’t use against her,” she stated and he sighed but stood steadfast. She brought her pointed chin back up and looked him up and down. “What if I told you how your hack was caught?” she asked, and he couldn’t help the slight angling of his head to the side as his focus narrowed in, interest piqued. She smiled at that.   

“Ah, there it is,” she said. “Come on, you’ve got to be a smart guy.  Imagine what you could do if you could hack WeaponSys.” 

“There’s no way you know how to do that,” Rhys replied. 

“But my people do,” she said and he exhaled a small laugh through his nose. 

“Right, your people,” he repeated. “If your people are so good, what do you want from me?” 

“You don’t see how having a contact on Stacey’s bench would help me?” she asked and he rubbed his forehead. 

“Okay, no, nope, sorry,” he said and she sighed, looking around before returning her attention to him. 

“What if I sweetened the deal?” she asked, stepping in towards him and reaching up to brush the back of a finger along his cheek. Rhys jerked his head back in surprise with a sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t - ah - I don’t think so,” he replied stiltedly, refusing to back away but drawn up to his full height he was well out of range and she dropped her hand. “No  _ thanks _ .”

“You’re no fun,” Char said. 

“I know,” he said consolingly. “But really. What about a… standing favor in your pocket?” he asked. “Need something hacked, I’m your man. S’long as it’s not WeaponSys or security… or somebody on my team,” he said with a frown. 

“That’s far too many caveats to be useful,” Char said with a wave of her hand and Rhys rubbed the back of his neck. She paused for a moment, looking away as if considering.  “In lieu of a favor, since you refuse to be  _ useful _ ,” she said, “I’ll settle for taking you out of the picture,” she stated, training sharp blue eyes that looked far too familiar back upon him. 

“Uhh, what?” he asked, his throat tightening and his nose aching. “Are you - is that a threat? Because that sounds honestly kind of threatening…”  

“Next time Stacey asks  _ you  _ for a favor… you’re going to refuse,” she said and his brows drew together. “And the next time, and the next time. “If you aren’t going to help me you aren’t going to help her, or apology not accepted.” 

“It - that’s a - don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Rhys asked with a laugh. “She  _ is  _ my girlfriend. I’ve got to help her out sometimes.”

“Then find a new girlfriend,” Char replied easily but laughed at his instant pout. “With that face it shouldn’t be hard, right?” she asked, but as his face transitioned into a full glower she waved him off. “Alright alright enough with the faces - you look pathetic - it’s hard to watch,” she said. “Five years then. No favors. We’ll call it even.” 

“Five years?” Rhys repeated. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. That’s over two times the length Stacey and I have been dating and two and a half project cycles,” he breathed. “One,” he countered. 

“Four, and if your relationship doesn’t last that long my other offer stands,” Char replied with a wink. 

“Thanks, again, but no thanks,” Rhys said. “Two years,” he suggested. “That gives you a whole ‘nother project cycle to win the review,” he explained and she narrowed her eyes at him, considering. 

“Throw in a kiss and you’ve got a deal,” Char said with a smirk.

“Ahh, flattering, but no,” Rhys laughed, tilting his head higher.  Her insistence and the overt nature of her suggestions concerned him. A sudden thought occurred to him and he wished he’d done this in a place with fewer security cameras. He took a step back, putting more distance between them with a cough. “Two years,” he suggested again.

“The rules of bartering tell me I should counter again,” Char said but she smiled and shook her head. “Fine, two years,” she agreed, putting her hand out. He glanced down at it warily, swallowing as he brought his gaze back up to hers. He could see the same determination from brown eyes he so often gazed into in the blue ones in front of him. And with great trepidation he took her hand. “Deal,” she said as they shook on it. 

“Deal,” Rhys echoed, forcing a smile. He retrieved his hand as soon as he was able and cleared his throat. “Well, thanks,” he said. 

“Don’t mention it,” Char said with a twinkle in her eye as she turned to leave. “Now stay out of my accounts,” she said and started away. He laughed again tightly as he watched her leave before shooting his gaze around furtively at the other Hyperion employees. His eyes fell upon a nearby security guard staring at him and he gulped again, tearing his gaze away and hurrying off, berating himself again for having gotten into this mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now that that painfully awkward chapter is out of the way... for a "master manipulator" Stacey sure missed the target with Rhys and Vaughn.


	4. Die Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters of Hyperion past draw to a close.

It was almost a week before Stacey and Rhys actually talked again. In the meantime all they'd exchanged had been a brief agreement to keep their heads down and try to salvage what they could of their jobs before picking things back up.

Thursday rolled around once more and Rhys poured over the data streams in his dark office well into the evening. Focusing his attention on the rapidly scrolling data was a good way to distract him from watching the clock, or thinking about much else, but it couldn’t drown out the knocking at the door that made him nearly jump out of his skin, much less his seat. 

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, locking the holographic terminals and clearing his throat before calling out, “come in.” He took a steadying breath when the door opened and Stacey walked in tentatively. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised and unlocked his terminals, retraining his eyes upon them, unlocking them, and returning to work. 

“Hey,” she tried, not too loudly, but not too quietly either. And with enough cheer to give him pause as he tried to place it and its earnesty.

“Hi,” he replied flatly instead, not allowing himself to delve any deeper. 

“It’s Thursday,” she added and he closed his eyes at that, his hands going stil.  

“Date night,” he replied automatically. 

“Yep,” she echoed and when he opened his eyes she was smiling softly, making him look twice at her over the holographic terminal displays. She looked remorseful, he realized. Sad. Though her lips were trained in a smile, her normally bright eyes were dull. He felt some of the rigidity in his shoulders ease as he sighed. 

“I was really planning on working late tonight,” Rhys remarked and her face fell somewhat, but the smile remained. “I’m still in loads of trouble with Henderson. If I play my cards right, and if I’m lucky, I can work this off but in order to do that I have to actually  _ work  _ it off.”

“I know, I know,” Stacey said quietly rounding his desk with hesitant steps. Almost tip toeing. “At least, I figured as much. But I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” she added, her tone even. “Maybe just a little break?” she asked, stopping at the near side of his desk. “It’d be a shame to ruin our date night streak over - well - it’d just be a shame.” 

“Stacey…” Rhys sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need to eat at some point anyway; I won’t keep you long, I promise,” she was saying and Rhys couldn’t help but sigh again as he searched her face. When he didn’t answer she swallowed a tiny gulp, licking her lips and looking off to the side for a moment before returning her gaze to his and continuing. 

“Unless… you’re still mad at me,” she said. “I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else to -” she added in a resigned rush before letting out a little huff and crossing her arms, dropping her stare to the floor, where Rhys’ joined it, somewhere between the toes of her stylish pumps. He hesitated long enough and she shifted on those heels, before drawing back, and out of the small spot of floor he was staring at. “I’ll just go,” she said and he brought his attention back up to her retreating form as she headed towards the door. He felt a sudden rush of guilt at his silence. The problem was: he didn’t know how he felt. So instead he stood.

“Hey wait up,” he called, locking his terminals again. She paused and turned back around a little bit as he approached her, her brown eyes regarding him with surprise. “Just - for a little while,” he said with a smirk he hoped was reassuring, for the both of them. The mirroring smile on her face made it a little easier to keep up and he let her through the door first, before following and closing it behind them. 

“This way,” she called, touching his hand and leading him down a smaller hallway as they wound their way to the cafeteria. When he trained her with an odd look she smiled apologetically. 

“I’ve been finding the lesser used halls safer from our friends in security,” she quickly offered. “Maintenance halls too - they’re not patrolled, you know,” she explained and Rhys found himself nodding along, his brows furrowing. 

“Have - ah - have they been giving you trouble? Still?” he asked as her warm hand touched his again while they neared one of the few other employees in the narrow, winding hallway.

“Char keeps dropping hints, vague threats, and insinuations,” Stacey answered, smiling at the passerby. 

It was remarkable, Rhys suddenly realized as he smiled and nodded a greeting as well. How many times had he walked by other Hyperion employees smiling and chatting, completely unaware of the  context, of the plotting they were discussing? 

“She's entirely too happy; I figured if there's anything else she's planning I'm not going to make it easy for her,” Stacey added.

“That's… Probably a good idea,” Rhys agreed, unconsciously rubbing the bridge of his nose as they ducked through another doorway into a darker hallway, it's ceiling lined with pipes.

“You probably should be careful of what passages you use too, you know,” she said. “In here,” she added, palming open a door. Absent mindedly Rhys ran a hand through his hair with a sigh as he went through. She followed close behind him, the door sliding shut after her. The sound resounded through the room, not another hallway, startling him and he blinked, focusing his gaze and taking in his surroundings. 

Conveyor belts flanked them on either side, emerging from ducts in the walls and snaking across the scaffolding, before ending abruptly at the railing. He took a few steps towards the railing and looked over, into a small sea of junk and scrap. 

“Wait, where are we?” he asked, turning around only to freeze, staring into the muzzle of an unmarked scoped revolver.

“Trash compactor,” Stacey said simply and he suddenly, despite the urgent need to gulp,  he couldn’t swallow. 

“Uhh, Stacey, honey, what’s going on?” Rhys asked through strangled laughter.

“You’re not stupid, Rhys,” she said. “Not entirely,” she added with a shrug. “So drop the act and figure it out. Hands up.” 

“You’re joking. This is a joke, right?” he laughed. “‘Cause it’s a good one! You got me,” he said, backing up a step until the railing pressed into the small of his back. She waved the revolver a bit in his face, he noticed each chamber glowed purple faintly, and his hands shot up. “Okay, okay.

“I really hoped we could’ve worked things out,” Stacey said with a small shake of her head. “As far as you computer geeks go you’re pretty okay. Cute too. And with a tolerable amount of that hacker, holier-than-thou bravado you all seem to just  _ ooze _ ,” she said, almost as if she were evaluating one of her projects. “But if you’re not going to be on my team, I can’t let you be on anybody else’s,” she stated and Rhys gulped before taking a shuddering breath, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“S-stacey, come on,” he laughed though his mouth was dry. “You  _ can’t  _ be serious.” 

“Oh, I’m very serious, Rhys,” she replied. “You backing out on me?  _ Rejecting _ me when I needed you most? Going behind my back and dealing with _ Char _ ? How  _ dare _ you. I don’t know how you didn’t see this coming.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you heard about Char but I didn’t go behind your back; not-not really,” Rhys said in a rush. “I just needed to get some of the heat off - it’s just temporary - you  _ know _ I’m  on your side, Stace-”

“This revolver?” she interrupted, tilting it slightly so he got a better view of the pristine firearm. “It’s the H2300-003. The prototype that got screwed over, that you and your  _ friends  _ wouldn’t help me save. Still shoots pretty well though,” she said, pulling back the hammer. “This project would have  _ made  _ me, Rhys. Now I have to go back to the drawing board and watch that little bitch get the bonus,  _ my  _ bonus, when I could have made Hyperion  _ history _ with this gun.”

“Baby, we can still get you there; we just gotta be patient, I promise,” Rhys said, alternating between looking at her imploringly and searching frantically around the room. 

“It’s too late for that. If I have to start over, I'm starting  _ all _ over. I’m getting myself a new team. And taking out yours in the process. Can’t have any loose ends,” she said. “Which is why I’m going to shoot you and your body’s going in the trash compactor to be jettisoned out into space. The murder weapon is going to be sterilized and  disassembled for parts,” she explained coolly, as if telling him how her day was going.

“I’ll play the terribly stricken girlfriend when you go missing, devastated by your disappearance,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes, though her lips curled into a self satisfied smile. “And bide my time until I can take care of your  _ friends  _ too. And Char. And anyone else that gets in my way.”

“Wow, that is,” Rhys started, eyebrows raised like his hands, as his gaze settled upon a mechanical arm hanging from the ceiling, holding a large trash bin overhead. He quickly brought his eyes back to hers, to watch her wipe the tears from her cheeks, the perfect face of calm.  “That is impressive. You have this all figured out…” he commended her, as his ECHO eye flared to life and the flicked it up to the mechanical arm. 

“You really, really got me, wow,” he said as he accessed the mechanism’s systems. He quickly brought his stare back to her though, before darting it in another direction, and then back to the arm. She was squinting, studying him closely when he looked at her again, and he worried he’d been looking away too long. 

“So, was… was all this,” he stuttered, waving his hands minutely at the two of them. “This was all fake? None of  _ us  _ was real? All this time. Just playin’ the long game?” 

“Of course it was, honey,” she said with a smile as if consoling a small child. “I mean, some of it was maybe, sure: you helped me, I helped you. The sex wasn’t so bad either. I’ll miss your eagerness to please.” He looked down at that, finding the spot on the ground between her pumps once more, shaking his head and running his tongue over his teeth in a bitter grin. “But this is Hyperion, Rhys, and if you aren’t with me, you’re against me,” she stated, the smile dropping from her face.

“You don’t even feel the least bit bad about this? You’re not sad  _ at all _ ?” he finally asked, bringing his eyes up to look at her from under furrowed brow. She tilted her head to the side a bit then. At what, he wasn’t sure. The anguish on his face? The brilliant blue glow of his ECHO eye contrasting with the smoldering fury in his  brown one, he couldn’t tell. After some consideration, her eyebrows rose and she shook her head. 

“No, not really,” she replied plainly. “But obviously you’re taking this harder than I expected. I thought you would’ve been better prepared.”

“Yea, well, I guess out of all possible outcomes of this whole ordeal I anticipated, getting shot by my girlfriend and dumped in a pile of garbage  wasn’t one of them,” he responded, frowning. He looked up at the mechanical arm holding the bin again and kept his face as frozen in anguish and hate as he could. 

He was in. 

He blinked, exhaling, and leveled her with a steady glare.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Stacey said. “Now I  _ do _ feel a little bad,” she added, tilting her head back with a smile that indicated she didn’t  _ actually _ feel the smallest bit bad. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you one last request. What do you want before you die, Rhysie honey? FYI: sparing your friends is off the table, though, so don’t waste your breath,” she said. Ah ha.

“I want…” he breathed, blinking hard, and licking his lips. “I want one last kiss… before I die,” he stuttered. An incredulous grin spread across her face as she stared, uncomprehending, but amused. “I love you, Stacey,” he said, letting his voice catch in his throat exactly how it wanted to.

“You know, that’s one of the things I always liked about you. You have such a flair for the dramatic,” she said, as she lowered the gun so it was poking him in the stomach. “Love you too, baby,” she said easily as she stood on her tip-toes to meet him. 

It wasn’t a quick kiss. Though he held his hands up stiffly and the barrel of the gun jabbed him painfully, it was almost as if nothing had changed, as their mouths melded and tongues mingled. 

Allowing him time to look over her shoulder, bring his ECHO eye up, and send the appropriate commands. 

The arm disengaged from its locked position with a loud CLACK and simultaneously Rhys brought down his hands, shoving her away. Her back slammed hard up against the door and she grunted in surprise. 

“What the hell, Rhys?!” she cried as she scrambled to regain her footing and whipped the revolver back up. He dove to the side with a yelp as she got off a shot. 

A virulent streak of a purple bullet, leaving a trail of sizzling light in the very air behind him before spattering against the far wall. Stacey’s steady arm traced Rhys’ path, a step behind, before movement above caught her attention. 

Stacey didn’t have time to register what was happening before the upside down bin dropped on top of her, trapping her as the arm held it down like a bug in a jar. 

Rhys bent over, gasping for breath with his hands on his knees, as he listened to the banging on the side of the bin. He looked behind him where the bullet had lodged itself deep in the trash compactor room’s wall, and purple ooze slowly dripped down from the gaping hole. He gulped haggardly.

“Rhys?” she cried, her voice muffled. “Rhys, let me out! I’m sorry!” He straightened up and glared at the bin. Blinking at the mechanical arm’s controls, he layered an additional level of encryption on them.

“There; that should hold you a while,” he said. 

“Rhys? Let me out, honey,” Stacey continued, almost as if from far away. “I’m sorry; you know how much that bonus meant to me, darling,” she called. “I’m just distraught. You know how I get when I’m distraught.” He arched an eyebrow at that. 

“A lot crazier than I thought, apparently,” he said and exited the trash compactor room, leaving her crying his name distantly behind him. 

He took a breath, and then another, as he stood in the empty hallway, looking around in a stupor. With the door closed, he couldn’t even hear a whisper of her voice, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Running a hand through his hair, he started off at a consciously leisurely place to find his friends.    
  


Rhys found Vaughn and Yvette in the cafeteria chatting over lunch. They looked up when he approached and Vaughn glowered briefly. 

“There you are,” Yvette said. “This is the fourth day in a row Vaughn’s had to cover my lunch. You can’t just keep playing hooky until we’ve sat down. It’s not fair to him,” she said, waving her fork. 

“Or you could pay for your own lunch,” Vaughn suggested training his glare on her, though she simply shrugged.

“Do you see pockets in this skirt?” she asked. 

“Then get a purse,” Vaughn said, before returning his attention to Rhys, who he realized hadn’t said a word or even really moved since sitting down and putting his hands flat on the table top. “Hello? Helios to Rhys? You in there?” he asked, startling Rhys and drawing his attention. Rhys opened his mouth for a moment, before shutting it, and repeating the motion a couple times, gaping like a fish. “Bro, you’re kind of scaring me right now. What’s up?” Vaughn pressed and Rhys swallowed before answering. 

“Stacey just tried to kill me,” he replied in a high voice. 

“What?” Vaughn exclaimed, while Yvette simply shook her head, exhaling through her nose and stabbing a piece of food on her plate.

“I hate to say I told you so but… I told you so. I knew she was no good. Those engineer types in WeaponSys R&D are all egotistical, sneaky bastards; I  _ knew _ she was too likable,” she said with a righteous sigh, causing her friends to stare. 

“Why are you not more upset by this?” Vaughn asked incredulously. “His  _ girlfriend _ just tried to  _ kill  _ him!” 

“What? He’s fine,” she said, waving her fork at him. “You’re fine, right?” she asked leveling him with an expectant look.

“Uh, I mean, yea, I guess; she didn’t manage to shoot me,” he stuttered. 

“See? He’s fine,” she said returning her attention to her lunch.

“She  _ shot  _ at you?” Vaughn repeated. “Wait, back it up a second; what happened? Where is she now?” he asked. 

“Trash compactor, B12. Stuck under a garbage bin held down by one of the loader arms. Hacked it so it should take a while for anyone to move again,” Rhys reported and Yvette looked up, pleased. 

“See? Our boy Rhys is perfectly capable of taking care of himself,” she said. 

“She said since we couldn’t help her with her project, if we weren’t  _ with _ her we were against her. Gonna have to get a new team. Gonna have to get rid of… all of us,” Rhys said, in a rambling rush. Vaughn blinked in surprise and Yvette sat up straighter with an offended look on her face.

“Wait, what?” Vaughn asked, leaning forward. “She tried to  _ kill you  _ because I couldn’t keep fixing the numbers in her section’s budget and Yvette wouldn’t just  _ give her  _ the materials?”

“Yea, I-I guess? And because of the whole… talking to Char… thing... ” Rhys replied. “I… I don’t ever want to do this again,” he muttered. “I think I’m gonna sick.” 

“Oh man, we’re gonna have to… We have to take care of this. We’re gonna have to  _ do something _ about her, aren’t we?” Vaughn said, panic growing in his voice. 

“Say it louder why don’t you?” Yvette asked. “I don’t think the people on the other side of the cafeteria heard you,” she said, taking a sip from her drink. “I’ll take care of it,” she added easily. “Trash compactor in sector B12, right?” she asked and Rhys stared at her like a deer in headlights. 

“Yea, wait, what? No!” he cried. “We’re not… we’re not ‘taking care’ of anybody, right now,” he said. 

“Of course not,” Yvette said with a smile. “I just got a requisition for a broken loader arm and garbage bin that needs replacing. Nothing unusual about that,” she said, waving her hand as her two friends stared. 

“No, no you didn’t,” Rhys stated, stuttering.Her smile faltered at that as she dropped her hand. “We are  _ not  _ killing my girlfriend,” he argued and her eyebrows shot up as she pursed her lips to the side in disbelieving pity. 

“Rhys, I think you are  _ way past  _ the point of breaking up. I don’t think she’s your girlfriend anymore,” she said with a placating pat on his hand. 

“We’re  _ not  _ killing  _ Stacey _ ,” he insisted and Vaughn looked around nervously.

“No, of course not, because that would be ridiculous!” he laughed pointedly. “We’re  _ not  _ killing Stacey’s  _ project;  _ that would be terrible! It has such promise!” he said loudly towards the awkward onlookers. “Can we please discuss this somewhere else?” he hissed under his breath and they stood up from the table and left.

Once they were out from under the curious stares of fellow Hyperion employees on their lunch break, they continued while walking. 

“So what are we going to  _ do _ ?” Vaughn asked. 

“I don’t know but we can’t just  _ kill _ her,” Rhys insisted.

“Rhys,” Yvette nudged. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen. Do you want to have a gun pointed at your back for the rest of your career? I don’t,” she said.

“I know, I know but… look, there are three of us, and one of her,” he said. “Can’t we just… outplay her? Scare her into submission or something?” 

“I don’t know…” Vaughn chimed in. “I mean, I’m not a fan of the whole murdering business either but this seems like a really,  _ really  _ big risk.” 

“Look, if we kill her, then we’ve stooped to her level,” Rhys said. “I’m not doing that,” he stated firmly. “And I don’t want either of you to either,” he added looking from one ot the other. Vaughn sighed. 

“Outnumber and intimidate it is then,” he agreed as they drew up to the door. “Yvette?” 

“Alright, but I want it on the record I think this is a bad idea,” she said. 

 

“Duly noted,” Rhys said. He palmed open the door, and paused, his breath hitching in his throat. 

The room was exactly as he left it and it sent a chill down his spine. 

“Bro?  _ Bro _ ,” Vaughn whispered, touching his elbow and making him jump.

“Right, right,” he stuttered as they circled the bin. 

“Rhys?” came the muffled voice from within the bin. Looking from Yvette to Vaughn, both of whom nodded, he activated his ECHO eye and decrypted the controls once again.

“You ready to come out, Stacey?” he called.

“Yes, Rhys, I told you. I’m so,  _ so _ sorry,” his  _ ex _ -girlfriend's voice pleaded. 

“I’m going to lift the bin up just enough for you to slide the gun out, okay? Don’t even think about trying to shoot my feet or something or the bin’s coming right back down, and you’re not getting out. Ever,” he said. 

“Okay,” her disembodied voice agreed and he did as he said. Seconds later the revolver spun out by itself, and he stopped it under his boot, surprised by the length of the barrel and the fact that it had a scope in the first place. He bent down and picked it up, aiming it towards the bin once he straightened up. Staring down the sights his breath caught as the cylinder spun and suddenly all of the chambers were aglow with violet light.

With swallow a blink of his eye, he made the mechanical arm and bin raise up, revealing the kneeling blonde contained within. Her brown eyes were downcast, but they skirted around, as she no doubt identified the three pairs of shoes surrounding her. Finally, she brought her gaze up to meet his stare.

“You gonna kill me, baby?” she breathed, not even glancing at the barrel of the gun leveled with the sweaty bangs covering her forehead.

“Not if you play nicely,” Rhys warned. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Stacey,” he said and across from him Yvette tilted her head in disbelief, before gagging silently. Rhys cleared his throat and refocused, adjusting his grip on the revolver. “And not in a good way,” he added. “Not cool.” 

“Yea, you messed with the wrong team,” Vaughn said from the side, quickly trying to recover. “That budget you put in for next FY? Hope you padded your numbers and squirreled some away because you aren’t getting  _ squat _ .” 

“And your mat requests? Better sit back and wait because there’s going to be a shortage of  _ everything  _ from now on,” Yvette said levely from behind her. “And what you  _ do _ get? Better inspect it thoroughly. I might be too busy to properly inspect all the shipments. A little something  _ extra  _ might slip through for you, if you step a  _ toe _ out of line.” 

“And also? Watch what you put on the network. Because I certainly will be. And it’d be a shame for all your schematics and drafts to go missing, or somewhere - or  _ to someone _ \- else,” Rhys warned. Stacey blinked, her face still save for a solemn smile.

“Bravo, baby,” she said finally. “Point taken. Can I get my prototype back now?” she asked, her eyes finally moving to the revolver and back up to his face. He drew the firearm back, resting it on his shoulder.    


“Oh, this? No,” he replied, looking at it. “No; I don’t think I’ll be  _ keeping _ it, but you sure as hell aren’t getting it back,” he said with a sneer. She tilted her head back as she returned his glare silently. “And by the way? It goes without saying but we're over. I never want to see you in the data mining division, in my apartment complex, hell, if you so much as look at me wrong in the cafeteria again…”

“We will end you,” Vaughn growled. She arched an eyebrow as she looked to the side at him. She opened her mouth to reply but with a sudden flash and jolt she went stiff, electricity flaring around her and snapping her mouth shut. The boys watched in shock as she slumped forward to reveal Yvette turning off a stun baton and stashing it back in the waistband of her skirt.

“What? You sounded done,” she replied to their wide eyed stares. 

“You didn't - she isn't -” Rhys stuttered.

“She's fine, Rhys, calm down. I have just the place for her to come to in to scare the skirt off of her in mind,” she said. “You boys run along now.”

“Y-you're not gonna-”

“ _ I'm not gonna kill her _ , Rhys. Now scram, and let me handle it,” Yvette said and ushered them out. 

Exchanging equally surprised and slightly terrified glances, Rhys and Vaughn hurried away to move on with their lives.   
  
  


The weekend flew by startlingly fast. Vaughn and Rhys spent most of the time at their shared apartment playing video games and imbibing in copious amounts of alcohol behind locked and hacked doors. By the time Monday came around, Rhys was too busy just trying to slog through the insurmountable hangover and get his to his office to worry about anything else. 

Until he sat down at his workstation and noticed, amidst the overwhelming amount of Handsome Jack propaganda, the single personal photograph. From last New Year's Eve party, featuring none other than Stacey, smiling beside him, each of them holding a champagne flute, their arms intertwined. With a combination of a grunt and a hiss he tipped the frame forward with his cybernetic hand, and went on with his day. 

He ignored it and forgot about it for the rest of the week.

Thursday evening rolled around and his ECHO comm pinged at precisely five o’clock. Briefly looking at the ID, Rhys accepted the call and Vaughn's voice came through.

“Hey bro, still at work?” he asked and Rhys made note of the time. 

“Yea, just plugging away,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and running a hand down his face. “What's up?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just about to head home and see if you needed anything from the grocery store,” Vaughn said.

“Nah, I can't think of anything,” Rhys said, looking back at the readouts before him with bleary eyes.

“Wanna do something tonight?” Vaughn was asking and Rhys opened his mouth with an automatic reply before his eyes fell on the facedown portrait and it snapped shut.

“Ah, um, I dunno,” he replied, “maybe,” he added and with one hand opened the bottom drawer to his desk and with the other swept the picture out of sight.

“Okay, we can do whatever,” Vaughn said. “I'll see you at home.”

“Yep, I will see you there,” Rhys agreed with a nod. “Bye,” he said, terminating the connection after Vaughn’s echoed response. He tried to read the lines before him but the snippets held no meaning, gave him nowhere to go, nothing to do, and he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

With an aggravated groan he sent his workstation into hibernation and gathered his things, his feet quickly carrying him home.

He palmed open the lock and entered the empty apartment; the door closed behind him with a sigh and he stood there for a moment, unthinking in the silence. A moment later he locked the door behind him and headed to his room. 

He dropped his bag beside his bedroom door, flicking on the lights, and surveyed the room. His eyes fell on the same photo he'd dropped in the drawer in his office and narrowed his eyes. With a few swift, long strides he'd crossed the room and snatched it up in his robotic hand, turning to put it in the trash before hesitating.

His hand hovered over the bin, realizing the black metal thumb conveniently covered half of the petite blonde’s face, her dazzling smile glaring up at him, and he found himself frozen. He willed his hand to move, to do something, but it didn't and he briefly wondered if it was malfunctioning, though the tightness in his throat should have made him realize otherwise. He swallowed roughly, grimacing as his brows drew together and his hands began to shake as he told himself to throw it away.

It was just a stupid photo. Stupid photo, stupid Stacey, stupid self, stupid-stupid-stupi-CRACK! He gasped, taking a breath he realized he'd been neglecting, and released his death grip on the shattered frame. Shards of glass fell into the trash and he cursed as he turned over his hand to shake the rest of the destroyed picture and frame into it.

“Ahh, man,” Rhys hissed as he brought his robotic hand up and inspected it, running his fingers along the joints and seams, looking for damage. He was so annoyed with himself that he almost missed something he should have noticed a long time ago. Something he almost missed entirely.

He almost didn't notice very faint red light flashing on and off in the trash, hidden among the cracked frame and glass, peeking out from under the torn photo.

_ Almost _ .

With a sharp inhale he froze momentarily yet again, once his eyes fell upon the light. With a growl, he reached into the bin, slapping aside the debris and trash, and grabbing a tiny chip between his robotic digits.

“Son of a-” he hissed as he held it up between his forefinger and thumb, before dropping it to his palm and crushing it in his metal fist. “Shit!” he cried and hastily activated his ECHO eye.   
  


Vaughn unlocked and opened the door to their apartment a short time later, locking it behind him as he moved down the mostly dark hallway, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. A sliver of light on the other side of the living space told him Rhys’ room at least was lit, but an incessant shuffling and distinct rummaging came from the darker living room.

“Rhys?” Vaughn called as he entered the living room. 

“Ahh!” Rhys replied, startled, as Vaughn turned on the lights and was equally startled by the site that greeted him. One of the armchairs was overturned and the main screen was rotated around  45 degrees. Kitchen chairs were stacked in front of one of the tall bookcases, which Rhys precariously wobbled atop.

“Did we get robbed?” Vaughn asked, his voice forcibly light.

“We're  _ bugged _ ,” Rhys snapped and Vaughn felt his face go slack. “Stacey - fucking - put - bugs -  _ everywhere _ !” 

“Holy crap,” Vaughn replied. “ _ Everywhere _ everywhere?”

“I removed about a dozen minicams and mics from my room, four from the  _ bathroom _ , five so far from this room but there's at least a dozen  _ more,  _ and I haven't gotten to your room or the kitchen yet and I-ahh-ahh!” he stuttered mid rant as he reached too far towards the ceiling vent and tottered, the stack of chairs wobbling.

“Woah-” Vaughn yelped and pushed the couch forward without thinking, knocking it into the crumbling tower of chairs but catching Rhys, who curled up in a defensive ball as the chairs fell down. “You okay?” Vaughn quickly asked and Rhys groaned.

“Only thing hurt is my pride,” he said. “Stacey’s probably laughing her ass off right now watching me try to get to that camera,” he lamented as he pushed a chair off of him and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“Wait, it's still on?” Vaughn asked incredulously. “Why is it - why don't you hack it?” He asked and Rhys dropped his hand from his neck.

“Oh, yea,” he said. “I guess I could do that.” 

Ten minutes later and he'd managed to disable the devices in the living room at least. Vaughn skirted uneasily into the kitchen to deposit the groceries and came back with two beers. Rhys accepted his with an automatic thanks and took a sip as Vaughn sat down on the slightly off kilter couch, mirroring the motion. 

After a period of silence, Rhys just shook his head, staring into his bedroom blankly. 

“What the hell,” he breathed quietly. Wordlessly, Vaughn put a hand on his back, rubbing it gently as he sighed too.


	5. Why Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we return to the present and the ruins of Helios get many guests: reuniting old friends, enemies, and exes.

Much later, after Helios had fallen from the sky and its former occupants had reclaimed it, a day like any other dawned. Or at least - a day that _started_ like any other.

Vaughn and several of the other Children of Helios busied themselves in one of the makeshift loading bays, offloading supplies from a scavenging mission. Vaughn had just handed a crate of materials to one of the others when an explosion rocked the complex. The sudden BOOM sent them both scrambling, the box falling to the ground in a clattering heap. The distant impact reverberated in his chest, and ears, and red dust fell from the ledges and upper beams of the ruins.

Several far away shouts and screams echoed through the half open halls as the Children of Helios staggered towards walls or outcroppings, reaching out for support. Vaughn tripped a bit before finding his footing in a wide set stance and  put a hand out to steady the other shell shocked occupants of the loading bay.

“Okay, okay, everybody stay calm,” he urged, his voice steady, though he had to concentrate to stop his hand from shaking as the adrenaline from the start wore off. “Just-just shelter in place and I’ll - I’ll go see what’s happening,” he said and the others effectively slumped to the floor, huddling against whatever they’d managed to grab hold of.

Vaughn had barely taken a few steps before gunfire popped in the air and he ducked, dropping low with a startled shout. He darted towards the main road that lead in and out of the grounded space station. A plume of smoke billowed skywards among the rocks and everywhere Children of Helios dodged and dipped out of sight amongst the wreckage.

“Hey,” Vaughn called to them, but they paid him little heed over their own panicked wailing, fleeing farther into the complex as gunfire whistled above their heads again. Rolling to the side, he thought he saw a flash among the rocks but couldn’t be sure.  “Hey!” he yelled much louder, grabbing one of the other’s arms stiffly. “Go to the storage rooms and the armory and get all the guns that’ve been repaired. Break up into groups - each group gets at least one gun and _get in cover_!” he ordered and the Children of Helios - or at least the ones within earshot that heard anything other than the sound of their own panic and the crack of gunfire - hopped to it.

Unfortunately, none of them made it very far before another voice boomed just as loud a gunshot.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, suckers,” it demanded in a brief pause from the gunfire.

“Scatter!” Vaughn yelled as he dove to his stomach behind a mangled metal beam jutting out from the ground. Someone to his left wasn’t so lucky,  and a bullet tore through their shoulder in a spray of red mist. The other Children of Helios didn’t have to be told  twice, and disappeared into crooks and crevices of the mangled ruins of the space station.

“Hey-ey, I’m talkin’ to you,” the vaguely familiar voice called after them. “Come back here, short stack!”

“What the hell!” Vaughn yelled. “What do you want?” he demanded as he scurried to check on the wounded  former Hyperion employee who lay groaning on the ground.

“You, ya punk,” the voice snarled. Vaughn couldn't see where his opponent was. “ _You're_ wanted alive - your buddies not so much!”

“The hell am I wanted for?” Vaughn cried.

“Don't know; don't care,” came the voice again. “Now am I gonna have to shoot you in the kneecaps and haul you outta here before your buddies get back, or are you gonna come all quiet like?”

“Okay, okay! I'll come quietly, geez, just stop shooting will you?” Vaughn yelled, squeezing the injured man’s hand before standing, pulling his hood and mask on as he got to his feet. Glancing about, he couldn't even see any of the rest of the Children of Helios.

He could only hope they'd be brave enough to follow the mustachioed bounty hunter now as he walked away from Helios with his hands held up over his shoulders.  
  


From her place behind a plated wall, Stacey watched as the bounty hunter led Vaughn up the road out of the crater through the scope on top of the gun in her hands. So entranced by the scene, squinting to make the figures out, was she, that she didn't hear someone ascending the stairs behind her two at a time. Not until she found herself being forcibly spun around, that is.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yvette demanded, snatching the gun from Stacey’s startled grip.

“I was just - I heard an explosion, screams and shooting - went to investigate,” she stuttered, her hands raising up in surrender as Yvette leveled the gun at her chest.

“You took one of the only working guns and locked the rest away behind you,” Yvette corrected sharply and Stacey flinched.

“Oh, I… guess I did,” Stacey replied, dipping her chin down but maintaining her stare.

“Did you have something to do with this?” Yvette demanded and Stacey’s back straightened as she studied Yvette before responding.

“If I did, do you think I’d still be here?” she simply replied standing stock still and after another moment’s scrutiny Yvette exhaled through her nose and lowered the gun slightly.

“Sure,” Yvette said icily, “whatever you say,” she added before jerking her head to the side, beckoning Stacey to retreat farther into the ruins. “Come on, you’re going to open that locker and we’re going to follow them,” she ordered.

“We are?” Stacey asked as she did as she was told and headed in the direction of the armory and storage rooms.

“My bad, you’re not invited,” Yvette clarified, keeping up the brisk pace she’d set. “You’re staying here.”

“Fine by me,” Stacey replied as they walked through the ruins of the Hub of Heroism. Other station occupants watched and followed, stumbling along and falling into step behind them with wide darting eyes. Stacey opened the lockers as instructed when they arrived and Yvette began handing out the repaired weapons to the group that’d begun to amass.

“We still don’t have enough for everybody so get into your groups,” she started ordering, her voice loud and steady. “Each group has to have at least one functioning gun, everyone else will take a laser pointer. Everybody remember the signals?” she was asking as she organized the assembling crowd. She looked up at an approaching man expectantly.

“Doctor Clark?” she asked. “How’s your patient?”

“He’ll survive,” the doctor reported blandly, wringing his hands and looking down at the gun in hers. “I - uh - don’t remember what group I’m supposed to be in,” he confessed.

“You’re not in one,” Yvette replied. “You’re critical support staff - return to your patient, doctor,” she said and he nodded, spinning on his heel and hurrying away.

“Even numbered groups with me, odd numbered groups stay here and guard the camp, check the damage and if you so much as a lit cigarette you drown it - we don’t need any fires,” she called and the crowd muttered a stunned, disjointed affirmative. She pointed at Stacey. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned and Stacey held up her hands again, shaking her head. Yvette leveled her with one last glare before leading half the able bodied Children of Helios out on their most important mission since surviving the first night on Pandora.  
  


Stacey worked diligently on the next weapon in her queue while the away team, as those staying behind were calling them, continued their search. Some time passed and, for a while, things actually calmed down. She could almost forget the explosions and gunshots from the morning, were it not for the acrid smoke lingering in the halls. Instead she filled her nostrils with the fumes of the grease and tools of her trade.

Until someone else closer to the entrance of the station shouted something she couldn't make out. The hair prickled on the back of her neck and she paused to look out the window of her office turned makeshift armory. The twitchy fellow survivors of Helios emerged from their spots and niches and darted down the long cavernous ruin of the Hub of Heroism, all scurrying towards the access road.

Curiosity piqued, she took a breath as she set down the disassembled gun, grabbed a detached scope and left the armory, hurrying to the same perch she'd been caught in earlier. The others were too far below or ahead of her for her to understand their shouts, but as she brought up the scope and focused it on the incoming group, she figured it out by herself.

Lowering the scope just a bit she stared over it, the figures still specks on the road ambling easily toward the wreckage of the fallen space station.

“Rhys,” Stacey breathed, narrowing her eyes and bringing the scope back up.  
  


Using her existing knowledge of the ruined station, Stacey managed to orbit the activities of the visitors for quite some time. It wasn’t that hard actually. Rhys’ clothes, his cybernetics too, were different, she noted, but he was as boisterous as ever.

And the other former Hyperion employees fluttered about him like rakks around a week old skag corpse.

He was never alone. First either in the company of his old crew, or a testy Pandoran woman in a hat. Then even more Pandorans arrived and Stacey withdrew to her allotted workshop.  
  


She was still there, working on a shotgun when a stranger, one of the Pandorans she concluded quickly, appeared in the doorway.

“You're the gunsmith?” he asked, arching a blond brow. Everything about him screamed Pandoran: dirt, sharp blond beard, pointed, spiked hair, multiple piercings, and the invariable aura of the ruggedness born from the borderlands

“Eugh, I guess,” Stacey replied.

“You guess?” he echoed, crossing muscular arms. She hefted the shotgun, turning it over in her hands for a moment before placing it with the other weapons ready for testing.

“Let's just say this is a woeful underuse of my skills,” she lamented before transitioning her attention from the weapon in front of her to the Pandoran. “I don't mean to be rude but did you come here for a reason? I have a lot of work to do,” she said motioning to the bucket of battered guns masquerading as scrap.  He just shook his head, dropping his arms to his sides as he walked further into the room, passing the work benches to investigate the fixed weapons lined up ready for testing.

“Weapon smithing’s nothin’ to write off down here, if you hadn't noticed,” he remarked, prodding one of the weapons setting it askew. “I'm August, by the way,” he said, looking back up at her. “Heard some of the other little Hyperion creeps talking about you. Didn't catch your name though.”

“Stacey,” she replied. “And you do realize I'm a Hyperion creep too, right?” He shrugged at that and started pacing slowly around the room.

“I just thought I'd check out your stock.”

“I'm not a _shopkeep_ either,” Stacey replied, glowering. “Besides the guns are property of the Children of Helios.”

“Then maybe to discuss business opportunities: a deal, or partnership, so to speak.”

“I don't do partners anymore,” she snapped, before taking a breath and looking to the side briefly, forcing her fists open, before returning her gaze. “And you'd probably be better off talking with the money man about business - Vaughn,” she specified when he stared at her blankly for a moment. “He runs this place.” August grunted and turned away, his hands on his hips.

“Yea, yea. I know. But I was trying to get _away_ from those guys,” he breathed, waving a hand as if trying to swat an invisible insect away. She observed him guardedly.

“You don't like them? I thought you were friends,” she asked, but he hesitated in answering, his foot faltering and stopping mid-step. “They asked you here, didn't they?” she prodded.

“My girl- _ex_ -girlfriend asked me,” he finally replied and she studied him closely as he resumed pacing about the room with renewed fervor. “The rest of them can suck it for all I care but… I'm not one to turn down an opportunity at a Vault - or a good fight,” he explained, and she shook her head before pausing.

“A Vault?”she repeated.

“That's why we're here,” he said. “Sash’s sister and that company prick’ve been listening to a goddamn bot - seem to think we can handle the Vault monster this time.”

“Company prick?” Stacey echoed with a small lopsided smirk.

“Rhys or whatever,” August answered with another dismissive wave of his hand before pausing, his hand falling as he shot her a look. “Not your friend or anything is he?”

“Boyfriend, actually,” she said, the smirk growing on her lips, though she quickly tilted her head in acquiescence and added: “Ex. Things got… Complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” August agreed with a huff. He took another couple steps before stopping, putting his hands on his hips again, staring at the ground. “You still like ‘im?” Stacey picked up another mangled gun from the pile.

“It's complicated,” she repeated.

“I don't get the attraction,” August replied almost to himself. “He was annoying enough when he was Hyperion, but now he thinks he’s a big deal. Since he's got some piece of paper sayin’ he owns Atlas he thinks that means he owns _Pandora_.”

“Now he's got what?” Stacey asked, her hands freezing over the gun in front of her.

“Atlas stock or… cert, or something I don’t know. Said he grabbed the thing from Handsome Jack’s office before bringing down Helios and now he’s CEO or some shit. And the way all you creeps drool over him - it’s weird.”

“Oh, interesting,” she replied quietly, quickly returning her attention to the gun in front of her under the Pandoran thug’s scrutiny. Her fingers lingered over the gun for a moment before she blinked, shifting on her feet and looking up.

“You know what, why don't we go for a little walk? I need to get out of this room. We can find Vaughn and you two can have a little chat about that business partnership. Appeal to his number sense - he’s an accountant by trade - more guns, more profit, even if shared.” He regarded her suspiciously as she moved the fixed guns into a chest and locked it. “With any luck, we'll be in business after this Vault thing blows over,” she said as she moved to the door with a smile. August dropped his hands from his hips and joined her.

“Sure, I guess,” he said.

“Feel free to hide out here whenever you want. I certainly do it. Could use the company,” she said with a smile that made the Pandoran thug arch a brow, but didn’t prevent him from falling in step beside her.  
  


With everyone dispersed to prepare for the assault on the Vault, Rhys finally found a moment to himself. Truth be told, the attention, while novel, was exhausting. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it, he thought to himself, as he smiled and nodded at a group of the former company employees and they returned his greeting with bubbling enthusiasm. He ran a hand through his hair, sleeking back a stubborn lock, and noticed another of the refugees approaching.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Hi,” he replied automatically. His eyes flicked over to her briefly and he gave her a small nod too before moving on. It wasn't until he realized she wasn't groveling or giggling or gasping like the rest of the Children of Helios at his greeting that he gave her a second look.

And recognized the small smile, then the eyes, and the jaw and finally the whole face. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Huh-wha-Stacey?” he stuttered, half-staggering, half-leaping to the side, and she laughed a little.

“Yea,” she admitted, bringing a hand up to twirl the short hairs at the nape of her neck.

“You look-different,” he observed, his throat suddenly parched.

“So do you,” she said. “You look good.”

“I-uh-thanks,” he stammered, blinking in shock. “I'm-I'm sorry this is just - it is - _something_ \- to see you, yea,” he said nodding and backpedalling. “Wow.”

On the other side of the open area he saw Vaughn and the Pandoran sisters walking and talking.

“Does - ah - does _Vaughn_ know you're here? Alive? And here?”

“Yea, actually,” she said turning around to look at the pseudo-bandit leader over her shoulder. Vaughn must've felt their stares for he looked up at them then. Rhys made a face, gesticulating wildly and pointing at the back of Stacey's head. Vaughn gaped at him like a deer in headlights. Stacey turned back around and Rhys transitioned his wild hand motions to running his hands through his hair again. “He gave me a job. I process and fix up the weapons we scavenge.”

“Oh, good, you still work with guns. That's great,” Rhys said tightly, glancing over her to Vaughn again and trying not to scream.  
  


“I’m just saying maybe trusting August, a guy we conned and burned, might not be the best idea,” Sasha said but Fiona shrugged from the other side of Vaughn, who’d stopped walking, documents held tight in hand.

“You don’t have to trust somebody to work with them,” Fiona pointed out. “ _These_ guys are Hyperion - I feel like that goes without saying. The gangs aren’t going to leave this place alone for long. Aligning with August’s gang is probably the best bet they’ve got. At least we _know_ him. And if this Vault job turns out, the con’ll be nothing but a distant memory, water under the bridge, just you watch,” she said with a smile, pausing with eyes twinkling with amusement. “Besides, he _did_ come when you called.”

“True, but-” Sasha agreed but Vaughn interrupted her before she could continue.

“Oh, crap,” Vaughn said, as he shoved his clipboard into Fiona’s chest.

“Ow, hey,” she protested. “What gives?”

“Psycho ex-girlfriend alert,” he said and hurried toward Rhys and the short haired blonde talking to him.

“Ex-girlfriend?” Fiona echoed.

“His or Rhys’?” Sasha asked as they watched Vaughn come up alongside the other two.

“Gotta be his,” Fiona said.

“I don’t know,” Sasha said, tilting her head as they watched the trio. “Looks like he’s running interference _for_ Rhys to me,” she observed.

“Huh, suppose it does,” Fiona agreed. The ex in question maintained the smile on her lips as she waved goodbye and headed deeper into the station. Rhys and Vaughn returned the gesture with forced smiles of varying degrees of stiffness before turning away and joining the sisters.

“Why didn't you tell me _Stacey-was-here_?” Rhys whispered in a strained voice after they’d gained enough distance.

“It slipped my mind!” Vaughn said apologetically. “She usually doesn't leave the armory.”

“Oh, that's comforting,” Rhys groaned as the two pairs came together.

“What's comforting?” Fiona asked cheerfully.

“That my ex who tried to kill me now spends _all_ her time with guns,” he said glaring at Vaughn. “Back on Helios it was just _most_ of her time.”

“What’d you do to make her want to kill you?” Fiona asked.

“Come on, how many times have we almost shot him by now?” Sasha replied with a teasing smile.

“Fair point,” Fiona conceded, nodding.

“Hey!” he protested, straightening his vest. “I resent that. I didn’t _do_ anything deserving of being shot, thank you very much. We had a bit of a rough patch, some misunderstandings, and then she completely overreacted and turned on me,” he said. “Hence the crazy epithet,” he added with a frown and a glare.

“It happened more often than people like to admit there,” Vaughn agreed with a grimace. “It’s safer not dating.”

“Imagine that: a bunch of backstabbing crazies in one of the most vile, loathsome, crooked companies in Pandoran history. Who’da thunk,” Sasha remarked, Rhys pouted, and Vaughn smiled with a conciliatory shrug.

“Okay, can we just - focus on the Vault and rescuing Gortys, maybe? Thanks,” Rhys suggested and the four of them went on to continue preparations. “Of all the people to have survived the fall,” Rhys moaned quietly.  
  


Stacey returned to the armory, letting the smile drop from her face once the door closed behind her. She stopped before the locked weapon storage, staring to the side at the floor in a prolonged pause.

The door opened again, bringing her out of her ruminations before she’d even picked the next project to work on. The tall Pandoran thug from before, August, entered the armory once more, a bunch of papers in hand.

“Welcome back,” Stacey quipped, recovering, and he tipped his head back at that in greeting.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other after this Vault business is done,” he said, tossing the papers on the workbench. Stacey turned them right side up and spread them out. Requisition orders, inventory reports, and a contract between the Children of Helios and August and _his_ gang. She looked back up at him with a smile.

“Glad to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch! One last chapter (for real) and the epilogue left and then I can focus on _Unnatural Selection_!


	6. Revolver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events at the Vault of the Traveler unfold and Stacey has a bit of luck.

They had some sort of plan, Rhys’ little crew and the Pandorans, but Stacey wasn’t privy to it. When the teams left to summon the Vault, Vaughn took several Children of Helios with him to a remote section of the ruins. One she quickly realized the true nature of when the entire compound shook, and the brilliant beam of light erupted from the decaying eye of Helios.

Startled out of their routine activities, the remaining Children of Helios scampered to the various vantage points, clamoring up the stairs and crowding on the ledges and balconies, to watch the distant giants battle in the dust storm.

They watched, sometimes silent, sometimes bubbling with surprise, or excitement, or terror. The exclaimed whispers quickly hushed, as the gargantuan Vault door appeared, and disappeared, only to be completely obscured by the furious dust storm again, now laced with violet lightning. Even from this distance, Stacey could feel the charge on her skin as she gripped tightly to the bulkhead, shoulder to shoulder with fellow Hyperion refugees turned scavengers.

And then it was gone.

They watched a bit longer, but could see no more. No more robots or monsters of titanic proportions, no more arching Vault door way, no more mysterious storm of eerie violet light and roiling dust clouds. Soon, one by one, the Children of Helios returned to their duties.

Until later that night a cry from the spotters above brought them scrambling back. A faint light in the darkness approached. Violet and pulsing in the rhythm of a heartbeat. Pulling the scope from a pocket in her tattered blazer, Stacey dialed in on the approaching figures and her jaw went slack. She pulled the scope away to look upon them with unaided eyes, before returning to the instrument.

The party returned, most of them a little worse for wear but otherwise moving on their own power. All save for Rhys, cradled in the arms of the modified LoaderBoat, eyes closed and unmoving.

And all aglow with violet lightning bolt markings scrawled across his face and hand, illuminating those around him.

Stacey returned the scope to her jacket and turned away from the edge.

“Hey - what is it?” one of the others called her. “What did you see?” he asked and she leveled him with a glare that sent him shrinking back, stunned by its sharpness. She retreated to her workshop unaccosted, the sounds of the Children of Helios rousing to greet the returning heroes rising behind her as she shut the door.  

 

Rhys wasn’t dead. But he was different. Changed.

“They say he can teleport and shoot bolts of lightning from his hands!” someone whispered in the cafeteria as Stacey waited for the morning meal to be slopped into her mug. Her eyes narrowed but she took a breath as she looked over her shoulder.

“Didn’t you hear? The storm back there was _him_ \- electricity and wind and all. He just appeared right in the middle of it,” another chimed in as the cook poured the gamey smelling stew into Stacey’s mug, the heat not quite scalding her palms, but forcing her attention back to it as she adjusted her grip.

“I heard he saved a dying Siren in the Vault - and she gave him her powers - with a kiss,” a third joined the conversation and Stacey couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow and scowl in disbelief as she moved away from the chow line.

“Uh-huh, on the cheek - it’s why the marks are only on half his face.”

“Don’t be stupid, all sirens only have marks on one side of their body.”

“Maybe he had the powers all along - maybe he just decided to reveal them now, you know, now that we’re free.”

“He had to be something special, something strong - to take down Handsome Jack and Helios and everything and survive.”

There wasn’t a room in the ruins of Helios in which his name was not lauded, uttered with utmost reverence and awe. Save for one.

Stacey slammed the door to the makeshift arms workshop and armory behind her and set the steaming mug on one of the workbenches, crossing the room to the lockers. She keyed them open and stared at her handy work, her throat tight and her lips a taught thin line. Her eyes darted from weapon to weapon, the repairs making each gun unique, a hodgepodge of fixes: dents banged back out, and cracks and tears sealed with heat, leaving behind shining, cooled molten scars. Not unlike the steaming fissures she’d seen on Rhys’ face before he’d been hidden away in Vaughn’s quarters.

With a measured exhale, she closed the locker again and locked it. Her breakfast forgotten, she reopened the door to the armory and rejoined the rest of the ruins. It was time she got a good look at this savior turned siren for herself and figured out what really was going on.

 

Stacey found the small bedroom quickly enough. The door had been open and well known since the first night they'd used the excavated dormitory wing, frequented by many for guidance, assignments, and settlements of disputes. But after the Vault, the door closed. And had remained that way.

Stacey held her breath and pressed an ear against it, but could make nothing out through the silent metal. Slowly, she tried the door and it opened easily enough.

She stepped into the dark room. Bare walls unadorned with windows, instead dotted with papers, schematics, notes, and numbers, enclosed the space. A single, banged up dresser and a trash bin lined the far wall, a desk with an unlit lamp to her right, and a bed to her left.

An occupied bed. She’d recognize that sprawled figure any day, the long limbs nearly hanging off the edges. She took another step forward and he showed no sign of acknowledging her presence. The rise and fall of his chest was labored, halting momentarily after every exhausted exhale. And for every breath, several pulses of dim undulating light trailed down the cracks carved into his face; the only source of light in the room except for the light that filtered past her from the hallway.

Until the door snapped shut behind her with a slap and a whoosh of air, sending her heart into her throat as she spun around - to come face to face with the barrel of a revolver.

“Hi there,” the Pandoran, the one with the hat and the red streak in her hair, said, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Come to wish Rhys a speedy recovery?” she asked and Stacey remained still, her arms at her sides.

“Something like that,” Stacey finally replied.

“You armed?” Fiona asked.

“No,” Stacey replied again, holding her hands out farther. “All my guns are in the armory.”

“Neat,” Fiona said, withdrawing her own weapon and stashing it back in her sleeve. “No hard feelings I hope, about the gun,” she said, sweeping her bangs away from her face. “Can’t be too careful.”  

“No,” Stacey agreed with a smile. “You can’t.” At that Fiona leveled her with a look but the Pandoran’s casual smirk remained and she sat back down in the chair beside the door. Stacey cleared her throat and looked back to the sleeping figure on the bed. “How is he?” she asked.

“Fine,” Fiona supplied quickly. “Just tired, is all. Vault Hunting takes a lot out of you.”

“So it would seem,” Stacey observed and the conversation lapsed for a moment before Fiona sighed.

“Listen, I don’t know what the story is with you people, and I don’t want to know,” she said. “But whatever it is-”

“Is behind us,” Stacey interjected, returning her gaze to Fiona’s.  

“Oh,” Fiona stuttered. “Well, good,” she said and Stacey shot Rhys another long look, before patting her hips absently with a sigh and turning back to the door.

“Just thought I’d check in on him,” she said as she looked back at Fiona. “But I can see he’s in good hands,” she said with a smile as she glanced down at the hands Fiona had stuffed in the crooks of her elbows, having crossed her arms.

“Nice derringer, by the way. Custom?” Stacey asked. Fiona looked down at her sleeve, where her pistol hid, and shrugged a bit.

“Suppose so. It was a gift,” she replied.

“Saw each cylinder sported a different color. Able to fire different elements at will?” she asked and Fiona arched a brow, studying Stacey closely in the dim violet hued light of the room.

“Gotta be able to adapt down here,” Fiona said and Stacey smiled.

“Of course. I’d love to be able to meet the designer; got some questions.”

“You won’t,” Fiona stated tersely and Stacey went quiet, her lips closing in a smaller smile.

“I see. That’s too bad,” she replied and tilted her chin down. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Take care,” she said and opened the door to reveal a startled Sasha, who quickly bounded back, straightening from the hunched position she’d been in. Sasha opened her mouth but shut it quickly, as Stacey simply smiled in greeting, and brushed past her.

“What was up with that?” Sasha asked after Stacey had disappeared down a corner in the hallway. She rejoined her sister in the dark room and leaned against the desk as the door closed.

“I don’t know,” Fiona said, rubbing her sleeve. “But I don’t think I liked it.”

 

Sometime later, from her position in the armory looking out the window into the Hub of Heroism, Stacey’s jaw twitched as she watched Vaughn escort the doctor through the main space. She snapped the slide of the gun in her hands back into place before laying it down on the table with the others that passed inspection. She’d just reached into the bucket to grab the next scavenged weapon when August came in with another crate.

His step hitched a bit when he saw her in the room, but he quickly recovered and set the crate down, behind the bucket she withdrew her hand from. They nodded a silent greeting before she looked at the weapon in her hand and her breath caught.

Out in the hubbub of the open air center, Yvette and Sasha had joined Vaughn and Doctor Clark, talking with dark expressions. Looking from the window displaying the tense scene of Children of Helios, and back to Stacey's stricken face, August seemed to draw the inevitable conclusion.

“The Vault expedition didn’t turn out so good, huh?” he asked and put his hands on his hips, looking at the ground before casting his glare about the room.

Stacey, however, was too focused on the gun in her hand to notice. The plain, overlong gunmetal grey barrel was scratched up and dusty, but the scope on the six shooter told her everything she needed to know. She didn’t even need to turn it over to verify the model number and Hyperion stamp.  

“Yea,” she breathed, setting the gun down on the table in front of her and looking away, anywhere but at the weapon. “Real shame,” she said after swallowing, drawing his attention sharply.

“Hey, that Vault monster did a number on us,” he growled a warning and her brown eyes slew across the room to meet his. "Hurt Sasha pretty good this time, killed my ma last time. Bit more than a shame."

“Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she stuttered. “You're right. It’s just, the Vaults, they seem so dangerous,” she breathed, and he was walking away, pacing, his hands on his hips. She gulped again, licking her chapped lips. “I don’t understand why anybody would go after them,” she ventured. “Not after we’ve seen - all that’s happened.”

“Yea…” August agreed. “Yea… Money. It’s always money,” he said, turning away from her again. Stacey breathed a sigh of relief and looked back down at the revolver in front of her and picked it up. Her lips parting in anticipation, she took a deep breath and popped the cylinder out. “Lotta loot dropped when the Monster went down,” he said, but she wasn’t listening.

The six shot cylinder was mostly full. One shot fired. One shot lost in a garbage compactor of Helios, most likely trash now itself. Lost in the wreckage of the space station.

August eyed her warily. He glanced back out towards the commotion in the main hub just in time to see Sasha disappear with the others towards the dormitories.

“Heard you paid Rhys a visit,” he said, retraining his gaze on her, before angling fully in her direction. “Weird, what’s happened to him. I don’t get it. And I don’t like it,” he added, looking her up and down. “And Sasha and Fiona - they didn’t seem particularly pleased with you…” he remarked before pausing for a moment. “Didn’t you say you were Rhys’ girlfriend?”  he asked.

Stacey looked up from the revolver in her hand, leveling him with a look before moving her gaze to peer out through the small viewport. She watched the other former residents of the space station buzz with the newest hearsay about their hero and her knuckles went white as her grip on the revolver tightened. A small smile spread across her lips as she looked back at August.

“Ex,” she said and slapped the cylinder closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending song for this is Madonna's aptly named "[Revolver](https://play.spotify.com/track/5VcSCItOla8P0lXOOZS5KS)."
> 
> We've now established the majority of Stacey's backstory! Yay! Stay tuned for the epilogue which will provide a bit more of a bridge between this, _Something Strange_ , and _Unnatural Selection._


	7. Epilogue

Given how large Helios once had been, it was amazing how small the complex could be sometimes. The fledgling team of Vault Hunters stopped by every so often to rest, resupply, and let Vaughn check in on the community he'd cobbled together.

But as Rhys spotted Stacey in the corner area of the cafeteria now cozied up into something like a pub, he couldn't help but wince and bemoan the smallness of the settlement.

It’d been one thing before the Vault but now… he couldn't seem to stop running into her. Just yesterday - or was it the day before... The days had begun to blur together in a stream of constant movement, static, fight after fight, and whispers, interrupted only by the few trips to towns and Helios, and quiet stolen moments alone or with Sasha…

But just a short while ago - whenever it was - he’d stumbled across Stacey again. He’d been walking through the Hub of Heroism by himself, when he’d glanced to the side, towards one of the satellite offices, only to be rooted to the spot. Her dark gaze pinned him there through the window to what he finally realized was the armory.

He’d regained motor control fast enough to resume walking, but not fast enough to escape and she quickly caught up to him.

“How’re you feeling?” she’d asked. He'd shot her a sidelong glance but kept walking. Her shorn hair had grown longer, still short, but with bangs brushing her eyelashes, nearly concealing the glinting brown eyes.

“Peachy,” he’d replied dryly and she’d laughed that crystal clear laugh - it cut through the whispers sharper than he’d thought possible.

“Vault did a number on you, huh?” she’d pressed. "You seem to be adapting well to the Vault Hunter lifestyle though."

“Yea, well, I’m pretty hard to kill,” he’d replied absently and she laughed again, her smile big and bright, almost loud.

“Don’t I know it,” she’d said with another modest laugh, making him turn his head to look at her then. She didn’t look away, didn’t wince even when he did, twitching as the marks on his face flared hotly. “If I’d known you were this hard to kill, I’d’ve been more patient.”

Rhys flinched as his tattoos burned in an electric shockwave down his face and neck at the memory, jarring him back to the present, and he spurred him on and away from her. His wide eyes darted about as he looked for his friends, before his brain caught up and finished processing what he'd seen.

He stopped and turned back to stare. Stacey sat easily at a table in the corner, her legs crossed, and a rag spread out on the tabletop. She rubbed another greasy rag over the revolver in her hands. Gunmetal grey, plain as factory made sheet metal, and with a scope attached to a barrel that’d once haunted his dreams. When his panicked gaze shot back up to her face he saw she was smiling, just the tiniest curve of the corners of her lips, as she glowered at him, cleaning the gun.

He jumped a little, gasping and spinning around, resuming his brisk pace _away_. He found Sasha, Fiona, Vaughn, and Yvette at their own table. He yanked out a chair and sat down hastily, almost falling out of the chair as he hunched over the table and clenched it tightly as the whispers roared. His collar gave a warning beep and a buzz reminding him to take a deep breath.

“Woah there, been hitting the bottle already?” Fiona asked with a smirk and he scrunched his face as the noise subsided somewhat and he was able to open his eyes again. He brought a hand up to shield the side of his face as he furtively glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, you're acting weird. Well, weirder than usual. Again,” she remarked with a frown and an arched eyebrow. Sasha leveled her a look, simultaneously amused and unimpressed.

“Are you gonna tell us the problem, Rhys, or are we going to have to guess?” Sasha asked. Rhys looked from sister to sister before edging forward in his chair and bringing his hands down at Vaughn.

“ _Why_ \- does Stacey - have _that_ gun?” he hissed.

“What?” Vaughn asked. “That clunky scoped revolver? She asked for it a long while back. She'd been doing such a good job churning out the other guns I figured - wait.”

“Wait is _right_ !” Rhys yelled in a stage whisper. “You realize that's the gun she tried to _kill me with_?!”

“Bro, I - Rhys, no - I had no idea - the thought didn't even cross my mind,” Vaughn stammered and Yvette's look soured.

“Are you sure it's _that_ gun? I mean there are a lot of guns out there,” Sasha asked.

“I'm pretty sure I remember the first gun that was shoved in my face by my _girlfriend_ no less, thanks,” he chided. “That kind of thing has a tendency to stick with you,” he said. “At least… on Hyperion it wasn’t - listen - nevermind. It was _her_ pet project. A prototype. There's only one.” Sasha’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming an O as Fiona leaned back in her chair, angling to get a better look at the former Weapons Developer and her gun.

“A _real_ Hyperion prototype,” Sasha breathed, her eyes widening, and Rhys’ back straightened as he glared at her indignantly.

“N-no, you do _not_ like this prototype. This is a bad prototype. Very bad. Tried to kill me, remember?” he loudly proclaimed as he stared Sasha down. She made a sheepish face briefly as she shrugged.

“Sorry,” she said. “Loot!” she exclaimed, unable to hide her smile, which she beamed at him. He continued to glare, unamused and unmoved.

“Pandorans,” he eventually sighed with a shake of his head as he let her off the hook.

Fiona meanwhile flopped back to the table with a huff, the two front legs of her chair thudding solidly back against the ground.

“It's a revolver. I'm offended it's a revolver,” she said. Rhys looked at her then out from under furrowed brows. “Hyperion doesn’t even _make_ revolvers.”

“You are… all… so understanding,” he managed out in a strangled voice.

“Hey, hey, do you want me to ask for it back? See if we can trade up maybe. Two for one deal or something,” Vaughn suggested, leaning over the table to get closer to his friend.

“No…” Rhys said with a heavy sigh, putting his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands. “I'll survive,” he said. “Hopefully.”

 

Back at the table in the corner, Stacey smiled sweetly as she put the revolver back together. August pulled up a chair opposite her while his second, a dark haired thug with a bandolier of grenades wrapped around his thick torso continued past them to the bar.

“What’s a revolver need a scope for?” August asked, tilting his chin up at it. Instantly a chilling glare replaced her smile as she stilled momentarily to stare daggers at him. She shrugged it off however and soon smiled again as she gripped the revolver and pointed it towards the half open roof, inspecting the weapon.

“Improved accuracy, of course,” she stated. “Besides, it has _other_ redeeming qualities as well,” she added.

“Uh huh,” he said, with a quirked eyebrow. “You're not gonna tell me those, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then, what's it called?” he asked.

“H2300-03.”

“What kinda name is that? I thought all Hyperion guns had gimmicky names.”

“It's a prototype. Guns get their names at the review board. This one didn't get a chance to make it that far…”

August looked like he was going to comment on that, but instead stared back the gun as she leveled it, her finger resting above the trigger, and swept its sights along the room steadily.

“Well, the review board isn't exactly around anymore,” he decided to point out. She popped the cylinder open and gave it a good spin. With a start, he realized each bullet chamber glowed a different color: cyan, purple, blue, green, red, and yellow.

He didn't have to ask to know what it meant. He was certainly well acquainted enough with Fiona’s revolver. But it would seem in addition to the incendiary, corrosive, and shock elements, this gun had cryo, explosive, and _slag_ chambers. He arched a brow at her as she snapped the cylinder shut again, seemingly satisfied. Smirking, she returned his stare, but said nothing.

“Sounds like you could probably name it if you wanted. Got any ideas?” August asked, putting his elbows on the table and crossing his arms.

“Yea,” she said almost idly, looking away from him and leveling the scope with her gaze. August went still as his attention returned to the revolver.

For all six chambers burned brighter with a menacing hum: each color sizzling, armed and ready.

“Hostile Takeover.”


End file.
